


From All Walks of Life

by DalishEssence



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, F/M, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-15 09:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8051794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DalishEssence/pseuds/DalishEssence
Summary: The Fifth Blight is upon us. 
Our great King Cailan and the Grey Wardens are dead. 
Now it's up to his younger sister to save Ferelden, along  with a cunning nobleman, a Dalish huntress, and a sheltered circle mage.
Come, Lethalin, and hear the tale of the Dragon Queen Kassina and the Heroes of Ferelden, different people who came together from all walks of life to overthrow a tyrant and stem the tide of darkness. 
This is their story. This is their legacy.
(AU with more than one Theirin child)





	1. Prologue: the Dalish Twins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Secondary characters and storylines are property of Bioware and EA Games. Lyaera, Ariawyn, Ian and Kassina are mine.

**Brecilian Forest, 9:15 Dragon Age**

"She has the gift." Taeran mumbled to himself, still in shock. "She has the gift! Lirelle, come quick!"

Hearing the desperation in her husband's voice, she quickly grabbed her bow and quiver, and went to find him.

"What is it, Taeran?!" Her husband looked absolutely ecstatic, a bright smile illuminating his face.

"It´s Ariawyn! She has been blessed by the Creators! She has the gift!"

"What? That is impossible! No da'len has ever showed signs this young. She's only 3 summers old, vhenan."

"I'm telling you, emma lath, I've just seen it. She was playing with Lyera, when a small bird fell from its nest. She gently cupped it in her hand and I saw the blue healing light come from her hands and go into the bird. I felt the energy being drawn from the Beyond!"

Lirelle could not believe what she was hearing. Her own daughter, with the gift of the ancient elves? Sure, it was possible, since her husband possessed the gift himself, but it was still rare among her people. They were no longer as powerful as they once were and not many elves were graced by the Creators with the gift, and if they were, they began to show signs after their sixth year of life. If her husband was right, then it meant her daughter would be even more powerful than Taeran.

"I can't believe this! I must see this for myself."

Taeran sighed. He loved his wife, but she was stubborn. If she wants to see it for herself, he thought, I will show her. Her pulled a small knife from his robes and sliced his palm open. He heard Lirelle gasp and called his daughter, "Ariawyn, come!"

From behind the trees, a small girl came running up, her brown curls bouncing with every step she took. As Taeran looked at his daughter, he couldn't help but notice how everyday she looked more like his wife. She had the same brown hair, the same round, chubby cheeks, the same light skin, the same button nose, but most of all, the same beautiful almond shaped brown eyes. He watched as Lirelle crouched and opened her arms, and little Ariawyn jumped into her mother's arms, laughing.

"Lethallan, where is your sister?" he asked.

"I don't know!" the small girl responded between giggles, an impish look on her face.

All of a sudden, another small girl jumped from the trees above his head, onto his back. This one, unlike her sister, was the splitting image of himself, with her milky white skin, strange reddish brown hair, and sky blue eyes. "Boo!"

"Lyaera, get off your father's back. You could have hurt him, or yourself! And what did I tell you about climbing the trees?"

"It is fine, emma lath. Da'len will be da'len, like they should be."

"Papae, you are hurt! What happened to your hand?" Lyaera asked.

"Good of you to ask that, lethallan! I cut my hand with my knife" Taeran answered her.

"Why would you do such a thing?" He nearly laughed as he saw a quizzical look on his daughter's face.

"Because, da'len…" he said, while crouching low enough so Lyera could get off his back, "… I wanted to show Mamae what your sister did to the bird. Ariawyn, do you think you could do to my hand what you did to the bird?"

"But, Papae, I don't know what I did to the bird… I just touched it and it was better."

"Come, lethallan. I will help you"

Lirelle put down her daughter and watched her go to Taeran.

"Now, Ariawyn, I want you to close your eyes and breathe. Relax, lethallan. Place your hands on mine. Now, I want you to will my hand to heal. Yes, you heard me…"he said at Ariawyn's puzzled look, "Will it with all your strength and it will happen."

"How can you will something?"

"Well, it is like making a wish. Wish really hard and it will happen."

"Oh…" was Ariawyn's only answer. She closed her eyes in concentration, her face scrunching a bit, and Taeran immediately felt the Veil thinning, energy being drawn from the Beyond and blue light emerging from his daughter's hand. He felt his own skin beginning to mend itself, marveling at his daughter. "Do you believe me now, emma lath?" he asked his wife.

"It is amazing! She really has been blessed by the Creators!"

"Yes. Come now, let us get back to the clan. Tonight, we feast to honor the Creators and thank them for this wonderful blessing bestowed upon us."

* * *

 

"Papae! It is too early! I'm tired!"

Taeran knelt on the ground to be able to look at his daughter. "Ariawyn, it is never too early to learn. Is it?" He laughed as his daughter replied that indeed it was too early. "Lethallan, you have been given a gift. You have been chosen by our Creators to help us carry the knowledge and traditions from ancient times. You, my daughter, have been chosen by the Creators themselves to lead us one day."

"But I thought you were our leader. You are the Keeper…"

"I am, lethallan, but—"

"And Marethari is your First, so why are you training me?"

"I am training you, lethallan, because one is never too young to begin learning. There are spirits in the Beyond who are evil, and wish to use you as a gateway into our world. By training you to master your power, I am also teaching you to protect yourself from them. Now, let's keep walking, we have a long way to go. I want to get to the eastern part of the forest soon, da'len. There is a clearing where we can practice without disturbing anyone"

Before they could get to the clearing, however, they were suddenly surrounded by a group of armed shemlen.

"Well, what do we have here?"

"It's one of them Dalish. Look at them's ears and that one's tattoos!"

"Papae, who are they?"

"Hush, Ariawyn. You are not welcome here, shemlen. Leave us be and go, or you will suffer the consequences."

One of the shems, their leader, it seemed, immediately burst out laughing. "Oh, no. I think we'll stay. We're really likin' this forest of yours, and were just looking for one of your camps to pay you a friendly visit, right boys?! Lucky for us, you found us first, knife ear."

"Ariawyn, run." he ordered. The young girl, sensing the danger, ran and hid behind a bush. One of the thugs tried to grab her, but failed miserably and fell on his face. Taeran drew his staff. It was a beautifully crafted ironbark staff Master Illen had given him when he became Keeper, with runes of protection and elven incantations carved onto the shaft. Realizing he was outnumbered, he summoned the sylvans to life and ordered them to attack the shems.

Three shems in front of him moved to attack, but he blasted them with a cone of cold, freezing them solid. He absently noted that if his wife were here, she would have shattered them with one well shot arrow. He then threw a fireball at an archer, while the sylvans grabbed shems with their branches and effectively squeezed them to death, or bashed them repeatedly against the ground.

He failed to notice, however, that the leader of the crew snuck up behind him, and before he could react, felt the man's dagger pierce his back. He grunted in pain, and then screamed when he felt the bastard pulling out the knife. He fell on the floor, his vision going blurry. It was becoming difficult to breathe, and he realized the dagger must have punctured his lung. He heard Ariawyn's distant scream, as if she was miles away, before feeling a boot on his shoulder. The bandit kicked him to turn him around, facing the sky and then knelt and grabbed him by the collar of his robes. He was saying something, Taeran realized, but he didn't understand him, could not make out what the man was saying. He knew, however, that this man could not be left alive. He would protect his clan with his life, if he had to. He summoned one last spell, a lightning bolt that electrocuted the shem and killed him instantly, stopping his heart. Knowing Ariawyn and the clan was safe, he could finally rest.

Ariawyn watched and when all was silent, the last of the bandits having run away, and the trees had fallen asleep again, did she come out. She went to her father's side, and saw a dark crimson liquid pooing beneath his sleeping form. Blood? "Papae?" She knelt down next to him and touched his shoulder. "Papae, wake up. They're gone now." She shoved him harder, but he would not wake. "Papae! Wake up!" Tears began flowing down her face, and she angrily wiped them off. She was confused and wanted to go back home, Why wouldn't Papae just wake up?! "Papae, do you want me to heal you again? That wound on your back? If I heal you, will you be okay? Papae! Papae!" Ariawyn cried, summoning a healing spell. "I wish Papae would heal. I wish Papae would heal!" she kept repeating, but Papae would not heal and would not wake.

* * *

 

They ran as fast as they could, hot on the blood mage's tail. This is why he had joined the order, this is why he was willing to lay down his life, and the life of any mage. It was all to protect the innocent people of Ferelden. His mind was much clearer after the retreat in Denerim; he now remembered his purpose in this life. As they approached the heart of the Brecilian Forrest, the brighter the phylactery glowed. Until suddenly, it stopped glowing. He growled in frustration and signaled his men to come to a stop and be quiet. From a distance, they heard wailing in the wind. They began running and stopped when they reached a clearing, where they saw a small elven child, crying and desperately trying to heal a dead elf. They all stood frozen, just watching as the small elf continued to cry over the dead body, summoning wave after wave of healing spells.

"What shall we do, Knight Captain?"

"Split up. Ser Hector, take three others and go after the maleficar. He must be found and killed." He responded, handing Hector the phylactery.

"Yes, sir." And he was off immediately.

"And what of the child, sir?" another Templar asked.

"She is a clearly a mage. We shall take her back to the Circle at once."

"Yes, sir, Knight Captain Greagoir."

* * *

 

Lirelle looked at the sun's position. It was high noon, and her husband was still not back with Ariawyn.

She found Ashalle and asked her if she could look after Lyaera. Then she went to Marethari and told her if she was not back within the hour with Taeran and Ariawyn, to send a group of hunters out to look for them. She grabbed her bow and quiver, as well as her daggers, and set off in the search of her husband. She knew they were going to train in a clearing in the eastern part of the forest.

When she got there, she saw the roots of trees up in the air, some scorched from a fires long since put out. There were corpses everywhere, shemlen's corpses. Her heartbeat quickened when she saw no sign of Ariawyn and then… in the middle of the clearing… no, it couldn't be… surely it must be somebody else, but as she approached the body, she knew it was him. Her legs gave out as realization hit her like a bucket of cold water and she screamed, a sound so terrible and filled with so much grief, it caused all the birds to take wing and flee. Her husband was dead.

 

 


	2. 1. Of Conscriptions and Blights

**9:29 Dragon, Denerim, Royal Palace**

"Your Majesties, Your Highness, I'm so sorry to interrupt your breakfast…" Kervis began. He waited until both the King and the Princess looked up from their plates, and the Queen and Teyrn looked up from reading their reports, "… but there is a Grey Warden here to see you. He says his name is Duncan."

"Thank you, Kervis. Please send him in."

Kervis bowed low and left. Moments later, a tall, dark skinned man entered the room. His dark skin marked his Rivaini descent, and he carried himself proudly in silverite armor that was polished to a shine, the griffon on his breastplate gleaming proudly.

"Your Majesties, thank you for receiving me on such short notice. I am truly honored." He said, crossing his arms against his chest and bowing, the official Warden salute. "Your Highness. Teyrn Loghain." He said, nodding to each of them in acknowledgement.

"Warden Commander." Loghain said simply, and returned to his reports. Duncan sighed inwardly. He and the Teyrn had never gotten along.

"Always so formal, Duncan." Cailan said, rising from the table. "You forget we're practically family." He wrapped his arms around the old man, embracing his surrogate uncle.

"That doesn't mean I don't have to treat you with respect, Your Majesty."

"What? Don't I get a hug, Uncle Duncan?"

Duncan watched as the young girl also rose from the table, wearing a blue dress that matched her eyes perfectly, and walked toward him, her arms extended.

Kassina Theirin, the second child of King Maric and Queen Rowan, Princess of Ferelden, born two years after Cailan, shortly before Queen Rowan's untimely death. He had not seen her in years! She had truly blossomed into a beautiful and confident young woman, he could tell just by looking at her. She carried herself proudly, standing tall, with her head held high and shoulders down and relaxed. Her long, blonde hair curled all the way down to her lower back, and with her high cheekbones and strong chin, everyone always said she had Rowan's face. Except for the eyes, Duncan thought. Those blue eyes were Maric's, and the blond hair, and the nose too, for she had inherited the straight "Theirin nose", as some called it. It brought a bittersweet joy to his heart to see his friend's children, and desperately wished Maric still lived to see them. He would have been so proud.

The young woman hugged him and said, "It's so good to see you, Uncle Duncan. You've been gone for too long! Where were you? What brings you here to Denerim?"

"Dear, you didn't even offer Duncan a seat and some food!" said Anora. "Welcome, Warden Commander. Please sit, is there anything you would like?"

"No, thank you, Your Majesty, I have already broken my fast today." He did, however, sit down and turned back to Kassina. "Recruiting, I'm afraid. I've been traveling across Ferelden the last couple of months, trying to recruit for the Grey Wardens."

"If Kassina wasn't my lovely sister, I'd suggest you recruit her! She's become a real menace with her sword and Grandmother's shield."

"Oh stop, Cailan! You'll make me blush!"

"I'm pleased to hear you've kept up with your training. Your father would be proud." Duncan remarked.

"And mother, too! Loghain always said she was a fierce some battle maiden herself!" Cailan added. Loghain merely grunted in acknowledgment, not even bothering to look up from his papers.

"I heard you recruited a promising Templar after a tournament the Chantry held, just a few weeks ago…" Kassina remarked, looking at Duncan directly in the eye, with one brow raised. "Conscripted him, in fact."

Her statements had the desired effect, and tension immediately rose in the room. Both Anora and Loghain put down what they were reading and turned to look at Duncan as well. Cailan on the other hand, looked stricken.

"You conscripted him?" he asked.

"Yes, I did."

"Why?"

Duncan sighed. He had to try to answer tactfully. This was rather a delicate topic, and he did not want to risk angering the King of Ferelden. "He was not happy as a Templar…" he began. "And he really is a great fighter, Your Majesty. Also a sword and shield warrior." He looked at Kassina, as if fighting with a sword and shield connected them somehow. Perhaps it did, she thought. I rather like having that in common with him, as opposed to Cailan, who just loves his greatsword.

"But not skilled enough to actually win the tournament." Loghain remarked icily.

"He may not have won, but he held his own against seasoned warriors." Duncan replied, matching his glare. "Like Ser Talrew, who won many victories against the Chasind, and Ser Kalvin."

"He really held his own against one of the finest blades in Ferelden?" Anora asked.

"Yes, he did." Answered Kassina. Duncan couldn't help but notice she had a proud look on her face. Maybe she really was proud of her younger brother's accomplishments. "And Ser Eryhn, too. She can wield a sword and shield with unequal grace, but people tend to forget about her because she's a woman."

"How do you know so much, Kassina?" Loghain asked.

"Why, the Grand Cleric told me when I went to the Chantry the week before last." She looked pointedly at Duncan and winked at him. "The poor woman was absolutely scandalized. She could not believe a Grey Warden would dare conscript one of her Templar Trainees."

"Are you sure?" said Loghain.

"What are you implying, Loghain?" Cailan asked defensively. He had remained silent, until now.

"Nothing, Cailan. It's just that Kassina has always been rather vocal about her desire to meet him, I was wondering if maybe she had actually gone to the tournament. I doubt the Grand Cleric could have told her all she seems to know about the matter."

Kassina stayed silent for a moment and then laughed. "You really do know everything, Uncle Loghain! It's either that or the walls here talk. All right, if you must know, I did in fact attend the tournament."

"What?! With who?! And why didn't you tell me, Kass? I could have gone with you! I could've met my brother too! I could have… I don't know, offered him a position in the Royal Guard or something! I could've-"

"First of all, please calm down." Kassina cut him off. "I did not invite you, because I did not go as 'Princess Kassina'. I did not want to be announced at the Tournament, and I did not want Alistair to know I was watching him, and I definitely didn't want the Royal Guard to accompany me, so I simply… snuck out. Besides, I didn't actually meet him, I just saw him compete."

The King looked utterly deflated. Duncan put a hand on the young man's shoulder and tried to comfort him. "It's for the best, Your Majesty. He shall do well in the Grey Wardens."

"I just hoped… After learning about him, I…" Cailan sighed, trying to compose himself. "After Eamon revealed his existence to us, after Father died, I always looked for ways to take him in, but he was already in the Chantry. I thought, once he took his vows, to offer him a position in the Royal Guard… a 'the King's personal protector against magic' sort of thing."

"It's for the best, Cailan!" Loghain said, raising from the table. "He would not have been happy, here at court, always in your shadow. If you had offered him that 'position'", disdain clear in his voice, "he would not have been able to reject it, and would've been forced to follow you around every day. It would have been an insult to your mother's memory!"

"Why?" Kassina immediately jumped in her half-brother's defense. "Why would it have been an insult to Mother's memory? She had already passed away when Father met Alistair's mother. Father never cheated on Mother, and it was his right to try and move on after her death. I, being his daughter, neither blame nor judge him, why should you?"

"Enough!" Cailan disrupted the argument before it could begin. "You're right, Loghain. You're right." He rose from his chair. "I must go now. I'll be in my study if anybody needs me." And with that, he left the room.

Duncan watched him go. When he had decided to come to the King to tell him about the corruption brewing in the south, he never imagined the conversation would take a turn like this.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Duncan. I imagine you did not come here to talk about Alistair. I'm sorry I… steered the conversation that way." Kassina said.

Duncan looked at the girl, before responding. "It's ok, Kassina."

"What exactly did you come here for? What could be so important so as to request an urgent meeting with the King?" asked Loghain.

"A Blight." He said simply.

That shut everybody up. Anora covered her gasp with her hand, and both Kassina and Loghain stared at him with wide eyes.

"A Blight, Uncle Duncan?" Kassina asked.

"Here, in Ferelden?" Anora added.

"Yes. I have sensed it's corruption in the South. There have also been reports of Darkspawn sightings on the surface."

"But that doesn't necessarily mean there's an impending Blight. Couldn't it just be a large Darkspawn raid or something?" Anora asked.

Duncan sighed. How could he explain it without giving away Warden secrets? "We, Grey Wardens, possess the ability to… sense Darkspawn. See, after we join, we are given the ability to tap into their collective mind." He looked at the all each in the eye. "I have seen the Archdemon."

"Say no more, Duncan." Kassina said. "My brother needs to be present for this." And with that she rose and went after Cailan.

* * *

  
A soft knock at the door, startled him out of his thoughts. "Yes?"

Kassina opened the door, and let herself in. "Cailan…" she took one look at his face, saw his red rimmed eyes, and decided Duncan could wait a few minutes. Her brother needed comfort. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I'm feeling right now, honestly."

"I know." She said simply.

"Oh, yeah?" He got up, agitated. "How could you?! You didn't even tell me you were going! I could've gone with you! Sneak out with you!" he slammed his fist against the back wall.

"I already explained why I didn't tell you!" she yelled. She felt her eyes welling up, and desperately tried to hold back tears. The lump in her throat made it a hard to talk, so she tried to calm herself before speaking again. "I know how you feel, because I felt the same things after I saw him."

Cailan turned to look her, hearing her meek tone.

"Cailan… I know you're angry, and upset, and sad all at once. But this is really what's best for Alistair." She walked up to him and hugged him. He held her tightly and kissed her forehead.

"Just tell me one thing." He said. "What's he like?"

Kassina laughed. "He looks like you, you know, and Father. I recognized him, instantly. But his hair is more 'dirty blond' as opposed to your 'golden blonde' and his skin is couple shades darker, no doubt from training all day outside… but he has the same nose." She ran a finger down the bridge of his nose. "The eyes are brown, though. Probably his mother's."

Cailan laughed, hearing her description of Alistair. He didn't have the heart to tell her he'd seen him before. He had actually met him, even, that one time they visited Redcliffe, though he did not know it was his brother, then. "What about his character?"

"Duncan speaks very highly of him, which is a good sign. That day… he looks loyal. Like a good person, with a strong heart, maybe." She broke the embrace, and wiped a tear from her cheek. "The Grand Cleric, however…" she laughed as she sat down. "She said he was 'incorrigible'. He was always up to no good, playing pranks on his roommates and on the sisters."

"That old bat has no patience for children, it seems." Cailan said.

"Well, in her defense, apparently he wasn't a child anymore, and yet the pranks continued."

Cailan laughed. "Did you come here just to check on me, darling sister?"

"No, but are you feeling better now?"

"Yes, a bit. Thank you. Now, tell me, what is it you need?"

"I interrupted Duncan before he could actually tell you why he had come. It is… quite serious."

"What, like a Blight or something?"

Kassina cringed, and he immediately knew his outlandish guess was, in fact, correct.

"No… Truly? A Blight, Kassie?"

Kassina nodded. "He said he felt the corruption in the South and that he saw an Archdemon."

Cailan ran his hand through his hair. This was bad. A Blight? Here, in Ferelden? It would devastate it! Ferelden was still weak from the century of the Orlesian occupation!

"I never thought that old witch would be right." He said.

"What?" Kassina's flicked up to meet his. "What old witch?"

"Oh, I didn't realize I had said it out loud." He said sheepishly. "Remember when Mother Ailis told us the story of Father and the Rebellion?"

"The Stolen Throne, yes. I think that's what Brother Gaider decided to name the book, anyway."

"Ok, remember the part where Father and Loghain encountered the Witch of the Wilds?"

"Oh Cailan, you really don't believe that, do you? You know tales become exaggerated over time." She chided.

"Kassie, it is true! I asked Loghain!" He said excitedly, way too excitedly in her opinion.

"If it were true, then what was the so called promise she had Father make in exchange for helping them?"

"I don't know, but listen. She said a Blight would come to Ferelden, but that Father would not be alive to see it!"

"She also said Loghain would betray him, and that never happened."

He was silent for a moment. "What about Katriel?"

"The elven bard? What about her?"

"Don't you consider that betrayal?"

"She was a spy, hired by Severan. It was because of her Father lost the Battle of West Hill, and Grandfather Rendorn died."

"But she really loved him! She was going to confess to Father, and ask his forgiveness! But Loghain did not give her that chance, and it was because of _him_ Father killed her."

"Maker, Cailan, I did not think you were such a… romantic." She teased. "Nevertheless, she was a spy, and deserved what she got. Uncle Loghain only did what he had to in order to help his King."

"Andraste's tits, Kassie. May the Maker take pity on whoever betrays you!"

"Yes, but thankfully, no one has dared betray me so far. Come, Cailan. We should get back to Duncan. We need to plan how we're going to face this."

She stood, and when Cailan offered her his arm, she took it and together, the siblings walked out. They would face this threat as they always had faced everything else: together.


	3. 2. Of Childhoods and Chess

_**9:30 Dragon Age, Circle Tower** _

She woke quietly, dawn still a good four hours away. Ariawyn got up quietly, carefully sliding off the bed, so as to not wake up Keili in the top bunk. She grabbed her boots and quietly headed out of the apprentice dorms. Once outside, she put on her boots and headed to her favorite place in the world: the library. The night was cool and clear. _A good night for studying_ , she thought, while a yawn escaped her lips. She ran her fingers against the round walls of the tower while she walked. Even though she knew the way to the library by heart now (and really, it wasn't that hard, since the tower was _round_ ), the habit of feeling her way there with her fingers had stuck. She remembered how scared she was when she first started sneaking to the library at night, always afraid that one of the Templars was going to catch her. She remembered the night one actually _did_. It was last year _:_

_She suspected her Harrowing could be any day now, and in order to study a bit more, she had been sneaking to the library every night before dawn. She just couldn't concentrate during the day. Despite it being a library, there was so much_ noise _! Nervous apprentices practicing their spells, younger children fidgeting, senior enchanters talking about their research, so she had decided that waking up at the fourth bell to study until the sixth bell was her best option._

_That night in particular, she had made her way quietly to the library, chosen the book_ _**The Four Schools of Magic: Volume One** _ _, which was a large tome explaining Spirit Magic, its uses and a variety of different spells under this school. She usually read books and practiced the spells on her free time the next day, because were she to practice them now, the Templars would feel the magic, but that night, she was reading the instructions to learn the Force Field Spell, and for some reason, couldn't wait for the next morning to try it out. She chose her target, a small flower pot next to the window, and began casting. After two tries where nothing happened (Spirit Magic never came as naturally to her as Primal o Creation Magic), she finally succeeded creating a thin, and very flimsy barrier around the flower pot, which collapsed about 10 seconds in. However, that was enough for Ariawyn and she decided to call it a night. She happily closed the book and returned it to the shelf._

" _Wh-what are you d-doing?"_

_Ariawyn yelped in surprise, and turned around to find a Templar staring, hands ever ready at the hilt of his sword. He had no helm and appeared to be a young man, of about her age, with blond curls and a handsome face._

" _Please…" Ariawyn said. "I wasn´t doing anything improper. I was just practic- I mean, studying." She grabbed the tome again to show him. "Just Spirit Magic. It has always been difficult for me, and I thought if I studied a bit more, when the library was empty and there weren't any people… I mean, of course if it's empty, there aren't any people… But I could concentrate better with the quiet and I…" she realized she was rambling and realized that if she looked nervous, the Templar would have reason to believe she was doing something forbidden, so she took a deep breath and decided to start over. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. You just startled me. But I was not doing anything bad. I really was just trying to study. Please believe me." She pleaded._

_Ariawyn watched as the Templar slowly relaxed, but noticed he kept his hand still at the hilt of his sword._

" _Very well, I believe you…" Ariawyn sighed. "B-but I still have to report you to Knight Commander Greagoir." Her face fell._ Of course he would _, Ariawyn thought. Did she really think she could get away with sneaking around at night in a place where her kind were feared and hated? She just hoped Greagoir would condemn her to death and not Tranquility. But wait… she had nothing to hide… she really was just studying, so if she was certain of her innocence, why shouldn´t she prove it? She could come clean to Greagoir herself. She was sure Irving would believe her if she told him, too. She would even submit herself to a checkup, where Greagoir could personally check for corruption himself. Yes, that was it._

" _To prove to you and Greagoir- I mean, Knight Commander Greagoir, that I wasn't doing anything improper, I'll tell him myself." She answered. "First thing tomorrow morning."_

_She could feel his weary glance on her skin, could practically hear his thoughts and how he pondered her proposal in what seemed to be the longest silence in all the ages._

" _Are you really not afraid to do that?" he finally asked._

At this point, _Ariawyn thought,_ it's better to just be honest. _"Oh, I'm afraid. I'm very afraid. I'm afraid of facing Greagoir, and I'm afraid he will not believe me, and order my execution or the Rite of Tranquility but… but my conscience is clean. I know I wasn't doing anything bad… I'm not a blood mage, you know… I would be a terrible blood mage. I hate cutting myself… would much rather use lyrium or… you know, something else… like my mana, maybe…"_ And I'm rambling again! Maker, stop rambling! What's wrong with you?!, _she thought._

" _I believe you." He said._

_Ariawyn could hear her muscles begin to relax, the tensional pain in her back disappearing almost instantly. "Thank you."_

" _I w-will escort you back to the apprentice dormitories, and tomorrow morning, I will be waiting for you in the library. We will go together to the Knight Commander's office and you will report yourself to the Knight Commander and First Enchanter Irving."_

" _Very well."_

" _After you." He said, gesturing for her to walk in front of him._

_They walked silently, Ariawyn tracing her fingers against the wall. She considered how this night could have gone much worse, how any other Templar wouldn't have hesitated to kill her on sight. She really had gotten lucky that it was this particular Templar who had found her, and that he believed her… who was he?_

" _What is your name, Ser Templar?" she asked, without even thinking about it. The Templar remained silent for a few moments. Ariawyn wondered if maybe it was disrespectful of her to ask his name, maybe his leniency would only go so far… "I'm Ariawyn, Ariawyn Surana… Pleased to meet you."_ Please don't chop off my head with you fancy longsword, _she thought to herself._

" _I know." He answered, surprising her. Some of that surprise must have showed in her face, for he looked at her and said, "W-what? You_ are _one of my charges."_ She was? _He was silent for a moment longer, and just before they reached the dorms, he finally replied, "My name is C-Cullen… um… Rutherford."_

What a nice name, _she thought. It somehow suited him. "Nice to meet you, Cullen um Rutherford." She answered, a small smile creeping up her face. It probably wasn't very smart of her to sass a Templar, but she had a feeling he would be okay with it. "Thank you for walking with me, I mean, wal- escorting me … um… back to the dorms… Well… Have a good night."_

" _G-good night, Ap-pprentice Surana." And with that, she bowed her head and went inside._

And as she turned the corner (not literally, of course. The tower is round, after all.), and entered the library, there he was, standing in his usual post, next to the door.

"Good morning, Cullen."

He simply nodded and said, "Ari." He merely watched as the young woman began circling the library, running her index finger against the spines of the books as she passed. He couldn't help but admire her thin elven frame, with her long brown hair falling in soft waves down her back, and silently reprimanded himself for it. He should _not_ be looking at a mage, one of his charges, that way.

After telling Greagoir and Irving of her nightly study sessions, to dissipate Greagoir's anger, Irving had suggested that Cullen accompany Ariawyn in the library, if Cullen didn't mind, of course. Since she indeed _was_ one of his charges, and he felt responsible for her because of that, Cullen had accepted and since that day, had watched over her as she studied, silently at first. As time went by, he began to loosen up around her and helped her study, or sometimes (most of the times, if she was honest), he just talked to her when she took a much needed break. They talked about nothing serious, though; mostly exchanged small talk, which she hated, but with time, they had developed a sincere, though fragile, friendship. She was determined, however, that there would be no small talk tonight. There was something about him that was… intriguing. _Sure, yeah, let's call it that_ , she thought. She just wanted to get to know him more. There was something about him…

"What will it be tonight?" his wonderfully deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

"I don't know…"

"What do you mean 'you don't know'?"

"Well, I just figured, since I read every book I could possibly get my hands on –"

"You've read every book in here?" he asked, shocked. He honestly did not think such a feat was possible.

"Been here since I was 3 years old, remember? Anyway, I figured we could just… um… hang out, tonight, maybe? We could play chess. I saw a board over there and since you promised the other night…" she stopped rambling when she realized his mouth was open, and he was staring at her like she had just grown another head and then chopped it off herself. "Only if you want to, of course. We could just go back to our quarters and sleep. I just figured, since we were already up… so as to not waste the night." _That sounded so weird… Oh Maker, what am I saying? He'll think I'm crazy, or possessed or something, Ariawyn thought._ "You don't have to, if you don't want to, of course."

"Oh, um, no! You just caught me off guard, that's all. Um, yes, sure, let's play, yes. You get the board, oh no, I'll get it. I'm much closer to it, anyways, and, um, yes."

He walked to the shelf and retrieved one of the boards. He sat on the table opposite her, and began setting up the game. He felt a little uncomfortable, noticing how she stared at him. When the board was set, he looked at her, and found himself lost in her eyes. She was smiling… at him? No, that was impossible. He noticed how that smile brought out the dimples in her cheeks. They were adorable. He'd always liked dimples. He noticed that the one on her left cheek was deeper than the one on her right.

"Um… your move. Ladies first."

"A real gentleman you are, Ser Cullen." _Is she… flirting with me? No, no, she couldn't possibly… just get your head in the game Cullen,_ he thought.

Ariawyn noticed he was blushing. She didn't know why, but it pleased her, and also made _her_ blush. She could feel the heat rising on her cheeks. They continued to play in silence for a few moments, before he finally dared to break it.

"So, are you expecting your Harrowing to be soon? Is that why you've been studying so hard the past few… well… months…?"

"Any day now!"

He laughed, a deep, rich laugh that sent shivers down her spine and made her want to do all kinds of crazy things just to make him do it again. "You said that last year."

"Oh, hush. You know, I don't really want to talk about that right now."

"Well, what do you want to talk about?"

"Let's talk about you. Tell me about yourself."

"There's not much to know… I'm a Templar. I'm 18 years old. I'm from Honnleath… that's it. What else do you want to know?"

"Oh come now! There has to be more than that!" She said. "So, come on, Templar, and tell me more about yourself."

He contemplated her for a few moments. He had never met anyone like her, so curious, so smart, and so _interested_ in getting to know him.

"Ok… um… I just don't know where to start!"

"Ok, um… where'd you learn to play chess?"

"As a child, I played this with my sister. She would get this stuck up grin whenever she won, which was _all_ the time. My brother and I practiced together for weeks, and the look on her face the day I finally won…" He laughed at the memory. Ariawyn could picture him, a young boy with the same blonde curls, practicing chess every day.

"You have siblings?"

"Yes… two sisters and a brother. What about you?"

"I don't know…"

"You don't know? How come?"

"I came to the Circle when I was three. Irving told me it was Greagoir who found me actually. But I have no memories of my life before the Circle. Sometimes I get fragments, images… trees, a forest maybe, small things. Surana isn't even my real name, you know. When Irving asked me my name, I believe I just said 'Aiawyn'." She said her name in a baby voice. "Since I needed a surname for the Tower records, he named me Surana, after his own mentor. I think her name was Neria Surana, and she was also an elf. "

Cullen watched her closely, noticed her eyes grow sad, just a bit. During the past year, he had become somewhat of an expert at reading those eyes. Every emotion she felt, everything she thought was reflected in those eyes. They were like an open book.

"I'm sorry. Truly."

"Don't be. I once asked Irving if he knew where I came from. He asked if I really wanted to know. He said that knowing could… hurt me. So I decided that maybe it was for the better that I didn't know. Maybe I forgot for a reason. Maybe I blocked all the memories of my previous life, because I knew they would hurt me. Besides, how much could a three year old actually remember..." she grew quiet, but then continued, "When I look at the children who are just arriving, in tears because they've been taken away from everything they've ever known, their homes, their families… I know I made the right decision. Ignorance is bliss, right?"

They looked at each other then, both of them seeing their reflections in the other's eyes. God, he could get lost in those beautiful brown eyes. She broke their contact and looked at the board, and he noticed a gentle blush coloring her cheeks a lovely shade of pink.

"Dawn is breaking. We should… probably go. Try to get a bit of sleep before… but this was fun. We should spend more time together. I mean, if that's even allowed. I think our friendship is somewhat of an oddity, here in the Circle."

"Yes, I suppose you're right." He laughed. "But, yes, I would like that."

"Me too."

"You said that." Ariawyn mentally slapped herself _. What was it about him that made me so… stupid, I guess?_ "Come, I'll walk you to the dormitories."

They walked in silence, and when they reached the dorm, Cullen said, "Well, good night, apprentice Surana."

"Good night, Ser Cullen." She was about to go in, when she stopped and said, "It was nice to meet you, _really_ meet you, Cullen um Rutherford." And with that, she slipped inside, leaving a very distraught Cullen out in the hall.

* * *

Next morning, Cullen got called early into Greagoir's office. He was quite tired from staying up almost all night with Ariawyn, and slowly made his way to his superior's office.

"You wanted to see me, Knight Commander?"

"Ser Cullen, yes. I wanted to let you know we will be having a Harrowing later tonight, and I've picked you as the Templar who'll be charged with killing the abomination, should things go badly."

"I will fulfill my duty to the Maker and the order proudly, sir."

"Yes, well, I'm very glad to hear that. You're dismissed."

"If I may, sir, who is the mage?"

"Ariawyn Surana."

 


	4. 3. Harrowed

_Can I please just sleep for five more minutes?,_ the lazy part of her asked. _Maybe I'm being seduced by a sloth demon_. It was probably a few hours before dawn, and Ariawyn was contemplating whether to get up now or in a few minutes. _No! My Harrowing could be any day now! I should go… maybe reread that section about Desire Demons again… But… I have been waiting for a year… and I have studied all I can… maybe I could just stay in bed tonight,_ she thought as she sleepily hugged her pillow and curled into herself. _Wait! Cullen! If I don't go tonight, he'll think I stood him up! Wait, it's not like it's a date or anything…,_ she thought dreamily, smiling at the idea of a date with Cullen. They'd had such a good time the other night. She loved getting to know him, and learning of his childhood. She could picture a young boy with golden curls, frowning over a chess board, or running around his farm, chasing his sisters. _Ok, better get up…_ She opened her eyes to the usual darkness of the night. She sat up and stretched her arms as a yawn escaped her lips. She grabbed her boots and headed for the library. As she was closing the door to the dormitories, she was startled by a hand on her shoulder. She turned to find a Templar, his helm on his head and hand on his sword.

"Cullen?" she asked.

"No. Ariawyn Surana?"

"Yes?"

"Good. Come with me please." And with that, the Templar grabbed her forearm and led her upstairs.

"What's going on? I was just going to the library to study. I do so every night. If you don't believe me, you can confirm with the Knight Commander or the First Enchanter."

He did not answer. Then, it dawned on her. _Oh, Maker,_ she thought. _This is it. My Harrowing._ And with that thought in her head, there was nothing left to do, but pray.

_Though all before me is shadow,_

_Yet shall the Maker be my guide._

_I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond._

_For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light_

_And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost._

_I am not alone. Even_

_As I stumble on the path_

_With my eyes closed, yet I see_

_The Light is here._

* * *

She entered the Harrowing Chamber, tall and proud. The confidence in her eyes made Cullen feel a little better. He had felt vile all that day, and as night enclosed, panic threatened to devour him whole. He had even… gotten sick… more than once today.

Ariawyn looked around the Harrowing Chamber. It was a somber room, Templars rounding it and there, in the middle, was a summoning post with what she assumed was lyrium. She could _feel_ it calling to her, it's gentle song enticing and alluring. Cullen was there, the only Templar without his helm on, she noticed. It made her feel infinitely better to have him there, for some reason. However, his stricken look did nothing to raise her confidence, nor did his slightly green complexion. _Was he sick? Maybe he ate something bad and Greagoir forced him to be here anyway,_ she thought, _or maybe… no, it couldn- HE couldn't… Greagoir had assigned_ him _to kill her, should she fail._ No, she couldn't, _wouldn't,_ make him go through that. Now, more than ever, she needed to pass.

"Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him" Greagoir interrupted her thoughts. "Thus spoke the prophet Andraste, as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin. Your magic is a gift, but it is also a curse, for demons of the dream realm, the Fade, are drawn to you and seek to use you as a gateway into this world."

Irving came up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "This is why the Harrowing exists. The ritual sends you into the Fade, and there, you will face a demon, armed with only your will."

"I am ready", her voiced echoed in the chamber, confident and true.

"Know this, apprentice. If you fail, we Templars _will_ perform our duty." He said, looking directly at Cullen. "You will die." He gestured toward the Summoning Post. "This is lyrium, the very essence of magic, and your gateway into the Fade."

"The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity, child." Irving said, again placing a comforting hand of her shoulder. "Every mage must go through this trial by fire. As we succeeded, so shall you. Keep your wits about you and remember the Fade is a realm of dreams. The Spirits may rule it, but your own will is real."

"The apprentice must go through this test alone, First Enchanter." Greagoir interrupted, irritation clear in his voice. He turned to Ariawyn and surprised her by saying, "You are ready."

Cullen watched, horrified, as she reached out to the Summoning Post and touched the lyrium. A white light emerged from the lyrium at her touch, momentarily blinding them all. When their vision returned, Ariawyn lay on the ground, face calm and relaxed, sleeping.

_Only she would have that look of total serenity during such a test_ , he thought. He approached her still body and crouched next to it, wary for any sign of possession.

* * *

She awoke on the hard ground. There was a greenish hue in the sky and when she looked around, there were nothing but rocks and branches twisting up in the air. To her left the was a vase and a strange, and somewhat disturbing statue, of a hooded person in armor, with tentacles, or what she assumed were tentacles, coming out from its back and sleeves. To her right, there were ruins of what might have been a stone temple, and overhead, she could see it, the Black City.

_I'm in the Fade… Maker, help me._

She walked around, exploring, wondering when the demon would present itself. Before she could take ten steps, she felt a shock of electricity.

_Maker's holy balls!,_ she cursed inwardly. She turned around, a spell already in mind and the incantation ready on her lips, ready to face the demon, and instead… she found her attacker had been nothing more than a Wisp Wraith. She conjured a Winter's Grasp spell, freezing it solid and watched as the bright white light faded away. She kept walking, looking around cautiously, ready in case the demon presented itself.

"Someone else thrown into the wolves, as fresh and unprepared as ever." A voice startled her. She looked around… to her left… to her right… behind her… there was no one there…

"Down here!"

She looked down and saw a small, brown mouse. A _talking_ mouse, apparently.

"It isn't right that they do this, the Templars. Not to you, me, anyone" he said angrily.

"You're a talking rat." She managed to say, more to convince herself of what she was seeing, than for the pleasure of stating the obvious.

The rat laughed, and his laughter sent chills down her spine. "You think you're really here? In that body? You look like that because you _think_ you do!" he sighed, then continued, "It's always the same. But it's not your fault. You're in the same boat I was." Then a bright light emerged from his body, and then all of a sudden, standing in front of her, was a blonde man with apprentice robes. His appearance was true to his name, as he looked quite _mousy_. "Allow me to welcome you to the Fade. You can call me… well… Mouse" he said.

"You took the Harrowing? Were you an apprentice?" she asked.

"It's fuzzy, the time before. They wake you up in the middle of the night and drag you to the Harrowing Chamber, and then… The Templars kill you if you take too long, you see. They figured you failed, and don't want something getting out. That's what they did to me, I think. I have no body to reclaim. And _you_ don't have much time before you end up the same."

"How long do I have, exactly?"

"I… I don't remember. I ran away and I hid. I don't know how long."

_Wow, you are really no help_ , Ariawyn thought. But in the end, she felt sorry for him. Maker knows how long he has been here, wondering the depths of the Fade.

"I'm sorry… for what happened to you."

"Don't waste time with that talk. You don't want to end up like… this. There's something in here, contained, just for an apprentice like you. You have to face the creature, a demon, and you have to resist it, if you can. That's your way out, or your opponents, if the Templars wouldn't kill you. A test for you, a tease for the creatures of the Fade. "

"Anything can die. I doubt it's as simple as that…"

"You would be a fool to just attack everything you see. What you face is powerful, cunning."

"How have you survived here so long?"

"I missed my chance, so I became small, unnoticeable. I hide from the bigger things, and learn from the smaller things. There are places you can hide, where the shadows go on forever. You stay there long enough and the shadows begin to creep inside of you. I… I don't know how long it's been. Forever, maybe. But we should go, we're wasting time. I'll follow and try to help in whatever I can."

And with that, they continued walking. They came close to a clearing, a semi-circle surrounded by flames. Mouse told her that is where the demon would manifest itself, but not yet. They kept walking, and came across a benevolent Fade spirit, a spirit of Valor. He was dressed as a Templar and there were 4 weapon racks behind him. When he saw Ariawyn, he promised her a staff in exchange for a duel. She won easily and he gave her a beautiful iron staff, which divided into two intertwined branches holding a crystal ball on the top.

They kept on traveling, and met a Sloth Demon, who taught Mouse to become a bear, after Ariawyn had been made to guess some of his riddles. Finally, they headed back to the clearing, and the demon presented itself. It was a Rage Demon, one she could defeat easily with ice spells. She wondered why this test was so feared if the demon you were supposed to fight was among the weakest of it's kind. _But better not get cocky…_

"There is a spirit of Rage!" Mouse said.

_And… thanks for stating the obvious_ , Ariawyn thought, a small smile forming on her lips.

"And so it comes to me at last!" the demon said, it's voice deep and low. "Soon I shall see the land of the living with your eyes. You shall be mine, body and soul."

"If I lose, the Templars will still cut you down." She said, calmly. _And I won't lose._

"They are welcome to try. So this creature is your offering, Mouse? Another plaything as per our arrangement?"

_What? That son of a…,_ she thought, turning to look at him, disgusted. He covered his hand under her glare- _Yes, you should be ashamed, and more_! Ariawyn thought.

"I don't have to help you anymore!"

"Oh, and after all those wonderful meals we have shared, suddenly the mouse has changed the rules?"

"I'm not a mouse now, and soon I won't have to hide! I don't need to bargain with you!"

"We shall see." The demon said and attacked. Mouse shapeshifted into a bear, and between the two of them, they were able to take down the demon easily, as it was no match for Ariawyn's ice spells. After they were done, Mouse congratulated her.

"You did it! You actually did it! When you came, I hoped that maybe you might be able to, but I never thought _any_ of you were worthy."

"The ones you betrayed before me, what were their names?" Ariawyn asked, barely able to contain her anger. How many apprentices have failed because of him? How many had he deceived with his "I'll help you" act? How many had trusted him to help, and he led them to their doom? Had she known any of them?

"They were not as promising as you!" he answered. "It was a long time ago. I… I don't remember their names. I don't even remember my own name, it's the Fade, and the Templars killing me, like they tried with you."

"Anything to survive, like an animal… or worse." She spat, furious at his excuses. "Neither the Fade nor the Templars turned you into a murderer!"

"That is not true! I am what the Fade has made me. Am I to blame for that? Deciding to exist or not exist is not a fair choice! I had no hope. You have shown me other possibilities. If you want to help, there may be another way for me to leave here, to get a foothold outside. You'd just need to want to let me in…"

"What?! Why would I ever want to hel—" _Let you in?_ , she thought. _He's the demon._ She laughed bitterly. "I'm starting to think the other demon wasn't my test."

"What? What do you – Of course it was! What else is here that could harm an apprentice of your potential?" He smiled, then, and laughed. "You are a smart one." His voice turned deeper, and his tone was lower. "Simple killing is a warrior's job. The real dangers of the Fade are preconception, careless trust."

Ariawyn stepped back, as his form grew and he showed himself for what he truly was. A Pride demon.

"Keep your wits about you mage. True tests never end." And with that, he disappeared.

* * *

She stirred a bit and sighed. _Was she all right? Had she turned?_ He looked to Greagoir, who looked to Irving, who laughed and clapped his hands together. "She passed. I knew she could do it. She always was a cunning one. And in record time, too."

"Well, I assume if you chose her for an apprentice, it was for a reason, Irving." Greagoir replied. "Ser Cullen, take her back to the apprentices' dormitories. The rest of you, dismissed!"

Cullen couldn't believe it. It was over already? He wasn't sure, but he knew it couldn't have taken her more than an hour. She was truly a very powerful mage, so as to pass her Harrowing so quickly. He had attended Harrowings that had lasted the entire night!

"Ser Cullen, did you not hear me? Take the mage back to the apprentice quarters!"

"Oh, um, yes, sir! Sorry, sir."

Cullen picked her up, and carried her down. He watched as she slept, curled into him, her head resting on his breastplate. Maker, what he wouldn't give to be out of his armor, to feel her body against his. Wait, what was he thinking? Had he gone mad? Ari was his friend! And she was also a mage. He was a Templar! He couldn't possibly have feelings for her! But as he looked down at her sleeping form, he couldn't help but wonder at how perfectly she seemed to fit in his arms. Oh, who was he kidding? He… felt things for her. He realized it the night before. After she had gone in the dorms, he returned to the Templar Quarters but sleep eluded him, and he had spent the night tossing and turning until his legs were all tangled up in his sheets. He could not stop thinking about her! The way she looked down before speaking to him, how she blushed when he laughed. How _she_ laughed when he told her about his childhood, letting those beautiful dimples come to life. The way her eyes seemed to gleam mischievously when she made a move and killed one of his pawns. Maker, those eyes… he couldn't explain why those eyes captivated him so… Really, there was nothing special about them… _they were plain, small brown eyes… with short eyelashes… very straight short eyelashes, which was strange, because her hair was wavy. If her hair was wavy, shouldn't her eyelashes be curled, as well?_

Since he was distracted pondering her eyelashes, he failed to see that a tile on the floor in front of him was slightly raised, and he tripped over it. The sudden jolt woke Ariawyn up, who sleepily looked up to see Cullen's face close to hers.

"Cullen?"

"Ssh. Sleep, Ari. You passed."

"Hmm…" she murmured, closing her eyes, and curling even more into him, and raising her arm to place her hand on the back of his neck. Her touch was electric, sending a wonderful jolt of electricity down his spine. Cullen looked down at her. Her head was now resting under his chin, warming his neck. It would be so easy to lift her chin and kiss her… but no. Not this way. _She is unconscious, after all. How could even think about doing that, Cullen?_

"Hmm, Cullen." She mumbled in her sleep. "My Cullen." And snuggled closer to him.

Cullen froze. Had she really just said that? Maybe he heard wrong, but all was silent in the Tower and oh dear Maker, she said " _My_ Cullen". His heart hammered against his chest, thumping so violently he was afraid it would wake her.

_But, wait… she_ is _sleeping_ , he thought. _She could be dreaming of someone else. But she said my name._ My _name! But maybe there is another Cullen in the tower. Maybe another apprentice, Maker knows I'm the only Cullen in the Templars. But I haven't heard of any apprentice named Cullen. But, well, I don't know_ all _the apprentices in the tower… But, ah! Sod it all._

When he finally reached the dorms, he gently set her on her bed and covered her with a blanket. There, he lay down next to her bed and watched her sleep, while stroking her cheek. Without a thought in his head, he kissed her forehead. "Good night, Ari." He whispered. He stood and began walking out, when a harsh whisper startled him.

"Was it a Harrowing? Did she pass?"

He turned to find the voice belonged to a blonde apprentice, Sharon, he thought was her name.

"Yes. It was the quickest, cleanest Harrowing I've ever seen." And with that, he turned and left, praying the girl had not seen anything.


	5. 4. Of Betrayals and Bloodmages

"Ariawyn! Wake up, please!" Jowan shoved her just a little harder. He was beginning to get worried she wouldn't wake. Of course, everyone in the tower knew her Harrowing had been last night. He had heard it from Sharon, who was gossiping loudly with her friends at breakfast. Apparently she had been carried back by that Templar, the one who always stayed up with her to study… _What was his name? Colin, maybe?_ "Ariawyn, come on! Wake up!"

"Cullen?" she said sleepily, not even opening her eyes.

Ah, that's the name! "No! It's Jowan. Say something, please!"

"Jowan!" she awoke with a start, sitting up so fast she hit her head on the top bunk. "Andraste's knickers! Ow, ow, ow!"

Jowan quickly crouched down next to her bed. "No, don't rub it! Come on, spirit healer, you should know better than to touch it! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I guess so… Well, if my head didn't hurt before, it's definitely throbbing now. I think I finally understand why all the new apprentices fight for who gets the top bunk when they first come here." Ariawyn placed her hands on her throbbing head and cast a small healing spell on herself. The pain slowly diminished and just like that, the bump was gone, as if it had never been there in the first place.

"So… Cullen?" he asked, a smirk slowly appearing on his face. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he watched Ariawyn blush ever so slightly.

"I just thought it was him, because he was there last night." She said, feeling a little embarrassed. Okay, a lot embarrassed.

"Uh huh, I'm really convinced."

"Oh shut up! He's just a friend, that's all." She gently hit him with the back of her hand.

"Okay, if you say so! Anyway, I'm glad you're all right. Sharon was telling everyone about how your Templar carried you in, this morning. I didn't even realize you were gone, last night."

"He's not _my Templar._ And you never realize when I leave for the night."

"You always hear about apprentices who never come back from their Harrowings! What was it like?"

"Well… it was… harrowing."

"Come on, tell me more! I know I'm not supposed to know, but we're friends!"

"Jowan, please! You know I can't!"

"Come on, Ari! Just one little hint!"

She thought about it. She now knew why the Harrowing was kept a secret, there would be uprisings if all the apprentices knew what their final test was, but Jowan was her friend… the only friend she had here besides Solona. Being the First Enchanter's star pupil didn't exactly make you the most popular apprentice in the Tower. There were those who were jealous and hated you, and others who ignored you, thinking you were a stuck up know it all. "Jowan…" she relented at his puppy face. "Oh all right, but you are not to tell anyone, not even Solona."

"Yes, yes, whatever you say." He said excitedly.

"All right…" she pondered on what to tell him. She couldn't tell him about facing the pride demon, or about how it will show up as soon as he enters the Fade, pretending to help him… Oh, that's it! "There's lyrium, and you have to enter the Fade." She whispered.

"The Fade? You mean, physically?"

"No! Come on Jowan! You know that's impossible!"

"Oh, right." He said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Oh, and now you get to move to the nice Mage Quarters upstairs, and I'm stuck here not knowing when they'll call me for _my_ Harrowing!"

"Oh, Jowan, I'm sure they'll call you soon!"

"I've been here longer than you have! Sometimes I think they just don't want to test me!"

"No, you have not! I've been here since I was three years old."

"Yeah, and you're 18. You've been here for 15 years, I've been here for 16!"

"Oh, one whole year! That's so much longer!" she teased. "Jowan, please don't worry about it. They'll call you when you're ready. And meanwhile, don't waste any of the time you have left! Study, study, study!"

"Yes, you're right. I'll go and um… hit the books." He turned to walk, and then stopped. "Oh, I was supposed to tell you Irving wanted to see you as soon as you awoke! Sorry!"

"It's okay, Jowan." She gave him a hug. "Go study, ok? I'll see you soon upstairs, in the Mage's Quarters. Who knows, maybe we'll be roommates."

"Yes, maybe. Ok, go on now. You shouldn't keep the First Enchanter waiting." He broke the hug and began walking out of the apprentice quarters.

Ariawyn began walking towards the lavatories, deciding she should at least wash her face and fix her hair before going upstairs to see anyone, but before she got there, she heard two apprentices talking. She knew she shouldn't eavesdrop, but couldn't help herself, since they were apparently talking about herself.

"How is she? Is she all right?"

"And since when do you care so much?"

"I'm just curious! Sharon said that Templar, Cullen, said it was the quickest cleanest Harrowing he'd ever seen!"

"Well, he would say that, wouldn't he? Sharon told me he saw him kissing her last night!"

"What? No!"

"Yes! She said he carried her in, all gallant, and placed her on the bed and kissed her!"

_He kissed me?_ Ariawyn thought. Her heart began pounding and she couldn't help the smile that popped on her face. She all of a sudden felt giddy and excited.

"It's always the quiet ones, isn't it? And with a Templar too!" the girls laughed.

"Yes, I know! I'd love to see what Irving would say to his perfect little pupil if he saw her cavorting with that Templar! He would not think her so perfect anymore. Poor little Ariawyn Surana."

"Yes, it would appear those late night study sessions were not spent studying at all!" Both girls began laughing madly, and Ariawyn had to restrain herself of going in and blasting them both with a Cone of Cold.

"Oh, blast, look at the time! Come, we'll be late for summoning."

Ariawyn realized the girls were walking out, and would see her standing there, so she quickly began walking back, trying to pretend she had _just_ been walking to the lavatories. They came out and noticed her walking towards them.

"Ariawyn. Hi." Said the short, black haired one.

"Hi."

"So, you took the Harrowing?"

"Yes, I did." She said simply. She wasn't going to acknowledge them more than need be, they were _just_ talking maliciously about her anyway, and she would bet 100 sovereigns that they were talking to her now because they wanted to know about the Harrowing, since they had never talked to her before.

Realizing this, the girl only said, "Well… Good for you." And began walking out, arm in arm with her friend.

Ariawyn sat on one of the vanities and looked at herself in the mirror. She honestly didn't look that bad, considering she had just had her Harrowing the night before. Sure, there were dark circles under her eyes, but they would go away with a bit of rest. Her hair look quite pretty, waving down her back, and she decided it wouldn't need brushing, or it would poof. She got up, washed her face and left the lavatories.

She barely had one foot out the dormitories and felt some one hug her from behind.

"Ariawyn! You did it! You passed!" She turned to find her best friend, Solona, was the one doing the hugging and screaming. "It's all everyone's been talking about."

"Yes, I heard Sharon's responsible for that."

"Well, she says she's the one who saw you being carried in… by Cullen! I heard he's in love with you!"

"Boy, it's amazing how things tend to get exaggerated around here." She said with a sigh.

"Oh, come on Aria! You like him, admit it!"

"Solona, stop! I don't like him." At her friend's raised eyebrow and dubious look, she said, "I don't! And even if I did, he's a Templar, and I'm a mage. There's nothing to be done."

Solona did not fail to see the thinly veiled disappointment in her friend's eyes, and felt sorry for her. She had hoped the rumors weren't true, but apparently, they were… on Aria's side of things, at least. She had never talked to Cullen, had only seen him a couple of times in the library or in the halls, but she _had_ caught him a couple of times looking at Aria…

"Oh, Ari… I'm sorry for teasing." She hugged her friend even more tightly.

"It's ok. I'm sorry too, for snapping at you. It's just… I guess I'm a little irritable, at the moment."

"What happened?"

"Well, Jowan woke me up and began teasing me about him too, and then when I went to the baths, there were these two girls talking about me…"

"Well, let me tell you, babe, pretty much everyone's talking about you right now. But hey, come on! Don't worry about what people say! You passed your Harrowing, and that's all that matters!"

"You're right. Hey, walk me upstairs?"

"I can't, I have a lesson in a couple of minutes, but I can walk you to the library, if you want."

"Yeah thanks."

As they passed through the library, Ariawyn couldn't help notice how everyone was staring at her, sometimes stopping to whisper things.

"Solona, everyone's staring at me."

"Fuck them." She said, loud enough for others to hear. They reached the stairs and Solona hugged her one last time before running off.

* * *

She could hear the argument from down the hall.

"… many have already gone to Ostagar – Wynne, Uldred, and most of the senior mages! We've committed enough of our own to this war effort –"

"Your own? Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages, Greagoir? Or are you afraid to let the mages out from under Chantry supervision, where they can actually use their Maker-given powers?"

"Are you trying to suggest –"

"Gentlemen, please." A dark skinned man in armor Ariawyn had never seen before interrupted smoothly. "Irving, someone is here to see you."

They all turned to look at Ariawyn, who had just walked in. "Oh, I'm so sorry to interrupt." She blushed "But I was told you called for me, First Enchanter."

"Ah, if it isn't our new sister in the Circle!" Irving gushed, just like a proud father. "Come, child."

The man in armor walked up to stand beside Irving, eyeing her carefully, as if sizing her up. He raised one eyebrow and asked, "This is…?"

"Yes, this is she." Answered Irving.

"Well, Irving, you're obviously very busy. We'll discuss this later." The Knight Commander excused himself.

"Of course." Irving said. "Well… where was I? Oh, yes. This is Duncan, Commander of the Fereldan Grey Wardens.

"Oh, wow! Oh, I'm sorry!" Ariawyn said, blushing. "Pleased to meet you." She curtsied.

"You've heard of the war brewing to the south, I expect." She nodded. "Duncan is recruiting mages to join the king's army at Ostagar."

"Really? Can we do that? Fight in a war, I mean?"

"Yes, you can." Duncan answered. "In fact, mages are uniquely equipped to combat Darkspawn. The power you mages wield is an asset to any army. Your spells are very effective against large groups of mindless darkspawn." Duncan looked at the small elven girl, with her almond eyes and dark hair. If anyone else looked at her, they would say she was an ordinary elf, but, he knew she was not to be underestimated. He had always had a good eye for recruits, and just by looking at Ariawyn, he knew she would be a good one. She was smart, and a fast learner, or so Irving had said, so she would adapt to the life fairly quickly, if she survived the Joining. And the fact that she had passed her Harrowing in less than an hour meant she was a powerful mage, as well. Yes, she would be a very good recruit… "I fear if we don't drive them back, we may see another Blight."

"Duncan, you'll worry the poor girl with talks of Blight and darkspawn. This is a happy day for her."

"We live in troubled times, my friend."

"Which is why we should seize every moment of levity, especially in troubled times." Irving countered. "Anyway, my dear girl, the Harrowing is behind you. Your phylactery has been sent to Denerim. You are officially a mage within the circle. I present you with your robes, your staff and a ring bearing the Circle's insignia. Wear them proudly, Maker knows you have earned them."

"Thank you, First Enchanter." She curtsied, and took the robes, staff and ring.

"Now, take the time to rest, or read. The day is yours. But before you go, would you be so kind to escort Duncan to the guest quarters?"

"Of course, First Enchanter. This way, Commander Duncan."

Ariawyn left the office with Duncan in tow, walking him to guest quarters. She asked him what must have been a million questions while they walked, about the war, the Blight, and the Grey Wardens, but Master Duncan did not seem to mind, answering the questions gracefully, and even asking a few of his own. She had just left his room, when she noticed Jowan was waiting for her outside.

"Ari, can we talk?"

* * *

Jowan was having an affair with a Chantry initiate. _Jowan_ was having an _affair_ with a _Chantry_ initiate. And they wanted to escape the Tower, because apparently Jowan was to become Tranquil. And they wanted _her_ help! She could not believe what she was hearing, could not process all this new information in so little time, and definitely could not decide whether to help them or not! What he, they were asking of her was to practically betray the Circle, the First Enchanter, her home, her family! She did not know if she could do it or not! So she excused herself, saying she needed time to think about it, and with no concious notion of what she was doing, she found herself walking to Irving's office, the one place where she felt completely safe, with the man who had raised her.

"Ariawyn?"

"Irving, I..." she felt her heart beginning to race, and her breath fell short.

"What is it, child?"

"I... I..." she did not know what to say. She realized she could not say anything, really, because telling him would be betraying Jowan.

"So... he talked to you. Jowan."

"You know?"

"You don't become First Enchanter keeping your ears and eyes closed, Ariawyn."

"Is it true, then? That he is to become Tranquil?"

"Yes, it's true. I suppose that iniciate he has been dallying with told him."

Ariawyn's mouth dropped open before she was able to stop it.

"Close your mouth, dear." And Ariawyn shut it closed with a snap. "Yes, I know about Lily. Like I said, I did not become First Enchanter keeping my eyes and ears closed."

"Why is Jowan to undergo the Rite of Tranquility?"

"He is suspected of practicing blood magic."

And for the second time in less than five minutes, Ariawyn's jaw dropped open again, but she caught herself and said, "No... Jowan would not be so stupid."

"Ariawyn... Greagoir says he has solid proof, as well as an eyewitness..." he sighed. He knew this was going to be difficult for her, which is why he had hoped to keep her out of it. "I know he asked your help to escape the tower, child."

"Ah, of course you also knew that. Irving... what should I do?"

"You must help them."

"But..."

"Listen to me, Ariawyn. Help Jowan enter the phylactery chamber. I will be waiting outside with Greagoir and a small contingent of Templars."

"What is that going to accomplish? Greagoir will have even more reason to make Jowan Tranquil."

"Not necessarily, child. If my plan succeeds, and Greagoir sees Lily with Jowan, I can petition for a trial for him, his defense being that he was sneaking around with Lily, not practicing blood magic, and he might be saved from the Rite, the worst punishment being a few months in solitary confinement and the transfer of the initiate."

"And if it fails?"

"If it fails, I shall see the Chantry punish one of their own as well. Lily is as guilty as Jowan, she has broken her vows, and I will not see him suffer while she is shielded by the Chantry."

"What do you mean 'shielded by the Chantry'?"

"They will say she was deceived or is the thrall of a blood mage. We will need irrefutable proof that she s in full control of herself. Sometimes, we must remind the Chantry their own are not so perfect as they would like to have us all believe."

Ariawyn pondered her options. Maker, she never should have come to talk to Irving in the first place! Now she was more confused than ever... She was completely convinced of Jowan's innocence, there was no way he could be a blood mage, but that did not matter if Greagoir was convinced he was... Maker, he would hate her! But she'd rather he hated her, than spend the rest of his days as a soulless, emotionless shell of a human being. "I'll do it."

* * *

Cullen saw her approaching and straightened up immediately. He noticed how she had already changed robes, leaving behind the blue of apprenticeship, in exchange for robes of a soft yellow with light blue trim, that marked her as and Enchanter of the Circle. As she came closer, however, he noticed the tears running down her face. "Ari?" She was so distraught she did not even notice she was about to run right into him, until her head came into full contact with his breastplate.

"Oh, Ari! I'm so sorry! Are you all right?"

"Ouch. That's the second time I bumped my head today."

"Here, let me see." He helped her stand.

"No, it's fine." She dusted herself off. "I was not looking where I was going."

"Yes, you seemed upset. Are you okay?"

"Fine, just… things. I've got too many things on my mind."

"Do you want to talk? I-I mean… you know you can come talk to me anytime you like."

"I can't. I can't talk to you about this." She looked away.

"Ari…" he lifted her chin, so she would look at him.

"Just…" He could see the hesitation in her eyes, and knew she was debating whether to ask him to leave her be or stay with her. "...walk me to my room?"

"Oh, I… um…" He looked around, and once he saw the hall was empty except for the both of them, he agreed. She clearly needed to talk, just… not about what was troubling her. She needed a distraction, and she was his friend. Surely there was nothing wrong with him walking her to her quarters… "Y-yes, sure, let's go."

They walked silently for a few moments, until he said, "So… I'm, uh, glad to see you Harrowing went smoothly."

"Yes… so was I, when I woke up this morning, and realized I was alive."

"Yes. They picked m-me to be the Templar who—"

"I know."

"You do?"

"Yes, well… your green complexion and nervous demeanor sort of gave you away last night."

"You know it was not personal! I swear."

"Yes, I know. And I knew I would not fail."

"You're always so confident." He laughed.

"Would you really have struck me down?"

"I would have felt terrible about it, but… but I serve the Chantry and the Maker, and will do as I am commanded."

"I thiugjt so. That's why I was so determined to pass. I couldn't live with myself, knowing I put you through that." They reached her room, and she looked at him. "Will you come in?"

"Oh… I, um, I don't think I should. It'll look bad to your roommates, and I really shou—"

"There's no one here." She said simply. "Please." She looked at him with those dazzling eyes, and he found his feet moving at their own will, walking inside. He shut the door behind him without even realizing it, not taking his eyes off hers. She walked slowly towards him, until she was pressed up against him, and he placed one hand on her waist and cupped her cheek with the other. He took his eyes from hers for only a moment, to linger on her mouth, her impossibly pink lips.

"Cullen…"

To hear his name from her mouth, a small whisper with all the reverence of a prayer, made his heart ache, and to feel her body so close to him broke something in him, releasing a wild animal that had been caged for far too long. He kissed her, slowly, deeply, savoring it, savoring her, moving the hand on her cheek to cup the back of her neck and running the other up and down her waist, while she ran her fingers through his hair. Her touch was fire and ice combined, sending shivers down his spine, yet warming him from the inside out. She was just as hungry for him, as he was for her, he could _feel_ it as the kiss began to turn desperate, a wild war of tongues and lips that lasted until they separated, gasping for breath. "I'm sorry." He began. "That was… really nice." He pressed his forehead against hers.

"Cullen…" she sighed, smiling. "You… don't regret it, do you?"

"Maker, no… I've been dreaming about doing that for… longer than I care to admit."

"Me too."

They continued to hold each other, foreheads pressed against each other, neither wanting to let go just yet. Cullen did not know how long they stayed like that, he just knew there was never a more perfect moment, but like all perfect moments, it had to come to an end. People would wonder where he was or why he was not at his post. "I should..."

"Yes, you should." Ariawyn said, unable to keep the smile off her face. "We will have to be careful."

"Yes, especially now, that you are no longer one of my charges. I have no reasonable excuse to talk to you now."

"We'll figure it out. " Cullen lifted her chin and gave her a small kiss, one with none of their previous passion, but still full of promise, and then he turned to walk out.

"Cullen!" She waited until he stopped, before continuing. "I... see you tonight?"

"See you tonight."

* * *

After her short encounter with Cullen, which she could still not think about without smiling, she washed her face and marched herself to the small chapel, where Jowan and Lily were waiting for her answer. They were ecstatic when she told them she would indeed help them out, and now here she was, outside the Victim's Door.

"Eyes of the Maker, Tears of the Fade. " Lily gently whispered, one of her hands raised, and palm out, aiming for the door. "Now, Aria, cast a spell. Any spell will do, as the door needs mana to activate it."

Ariawyn called to life a small flame in her palm, and pressed it to the door, and moments later, she could hear the clicks of the locks and the door opened. Lily squealed and clapped her hands together. "Perfect!"

"We can celebrate later, love. Let's get to the phylactery chamber, quickly."

As the approached the chamber, however, Ariawyn began to feel... wrong. She felt fatigued, all of a sudden, like someone had sucked the energy right out of her. The feeling intensified when they got to the door of the phylactery chamber.

"Can you feel it, Aria?" Jowan asked, a tired look adorning his face as well.

"Feel what, love?"

"I can't access my mana. I can't summon my magic." Ariawyn answered. "It must be the door. It's enchanted."

"Of course!" Lily exclaimed, "I should have known. Why would they use something as mundane as keys to open it?"

"This means the rod of fire won't work, will it?" Jowan asked.

"No, it will not." Ariawyn answered. Blast! What would they do now? As she looked around she noticed a door to the right, a door she knew led to the repository. "Jowan, why don't we try that door?"

"Do you know where it leads to?" Lily asked.

"Of course! The repository! And the phylactery chamber is on the other side of it!" Jowan said. "Let's go!"

He walked to the door, but as soon as he opened it, he saw three armed sentinels charging at him, ready to attack. He instinctively stepped in front of Lily, but she deftly circled around him, and somehow managed to disarm a sentinel, stealing it's mace and bashing it's helmet with it. Ariawyn wasted no time in casting a Chain Lightning spell, while Jowan complemented it with a well placed fireball, and soon all the sentinels lay on the floor.

"Wow, Lily, where did you learn to fight like that?" Ariawyn asked.

"Well, I was not always a Chantry sister, was I?" she laughed.

"We can discuss that later! Let's get to the repository before more of those things come." Jowan urged them, and they walked past the solitary confinement cell and to the repository.

After talking to a strange statue that clamed to be Eleni Zenova, a consort to some Archon in Tevinter, Jowan found a weak spot in the wall behind a bookcase. Using an amplifier with the Rod of Fire, they were able to tear the wall down and stepped into the phylactery chamber. It was a cold, dark room, with ice climbing the walls and roof, magically designed to preserve the blood of the vials intact. The many phylacteries glowed eerily, casting a red glow and dark shadoes across the room. Every vial was labeled, the name of the respective mage written neatly in an elegant, yet tidy script, no doubt the work of a Tranquil, so it took them no time to find Jowan's.

"It is strange, that such a small thing comes in between every mage and freedom." Jowan remarked. He eyed the vial intensely, examining it, contemplating it, and dropped it. It crashed onto the floor, the glass shattering and blood ran free onto the cracks on the floor. "I... am free." He hugged Lily and kissed her forehead.

" _We_ are free, love" she said.

"Let's get out of here." Ariawyn said. She was anxious to get out of there, and get all this over with. It broke her heart to see them so happy, so hopeful, knowing it would not last. And it would be all because of her.

"Yes, you're right. Let's go." Jowan said, walking hand in hand with Lily.

As they approached the stairs to the first floor, Ariawyn could feel dread beginning to pool in her gut, and she began sweating. She was dreading what was to come. When they reached the first floor, Irving was waiting for them, with the Knight Commander and six other templars, Cullen among them. Their eyes met for a brief moment, before breaking contact.

"It seems you were right, Irving. And initiate conspiring with a blood mage." He cupped Lily's face with one hand and stared deep into her eyes. "She seems shocked, but in full control of her mind. She has betrayed us. The Chantry will not let this go unpunished. I sentence you to be taken to Aeonar, and the blood mage to death."

"Don't touch her!" Jowan shoved the Knight Commander. "I will not let you take her!" He took a knife from his robes and sliced his palm. Ariawyn watched, horrified, as how blood red magic began to emerge from his hands, floating weightlessly up in the air, and then exploded, hurling Irving and the Templars far, knocking them unconscious.

"Jowan!" she heard herself and Lily exclaim at the same time.

"Jowan, how could you?" Lily screamed, between sobs. "You lied to me! You're a blood mage?"

"I'm going to give it up! I'm going to give up all magic, Lily! I just want to be with you!" He tried to get close to her, but she backed away from him. "Lily, we must go, now!"

"No! Get away from me, blood mage!"

"Lily... I-I..." He couldn't say more, and he saw some Templars beginning to stir, so he turned and ran. He ran from it all, from his love's rejection and his best friend's hurt look. Now, there was nothing left for him but the road ahead.

Ariawyn saw Irving stir, and ran to his side. She closed her eyes and let her magic wash over him, checking him for injuries. He was not seriously hurt, but she cast a group healing spell anyway, in case some of the Templars had gotten hurt, in case Cullen had gotten hurt. "Irving, are you okay?"

"Hush, child. I'm all right." Ariawyn could not help her sigh of relief.

"Is everyone else all right?" She looked frantically around the room until her eyes found Cullen, who nodded slightly. _Thank you, Maker_ , she thought, _he's okay as well._

"No, how is anyone all right?!" Greagoir shouted. "A blood mage has just escaped! And it's all your fault, Irving!" He turned, pointing at Ariawyn. "And you! A newly Harrowed mage, already flaunting the rules of the Circle."

"Enough, Greagoir. She was working under my orders, you know that." Irving stepped in front of Ariawyn protectively.

"Ser Irminic, take group of Templars and go after the blood mage! He can't have gone too far!"

"Yes, Ser!"

"Where is the girl?!"

Lilly stepped up. "I'm right here, Knight Commander."

"You helped a blood mage destroy his phylactery and escape the tower. Look at all he has hurt!"

"But Lily didn't know he was a blood mage!" Ariawyn said, unable to keep quiet.

"Ariawyn..." Lily looked at her and shook her head. "I was an accomplice to a blood mage. I will accept whatever punishment you see fit, even... even Aeonar."

"Get her out of my sight!"

Ariawyn watched as two templars took Lily by her arms, and dragged her back downstairs, to the solitary confinement cells.

"And you!" The Knight Commander continued, pointing at Ariawyn. "You entered a repository that is filled with magical artifacts that are locked away for a reason! Your antics have made a mockery of the Circle."

"Like I said, she was working under my orders."

"And that improves the situation? You are not all knowing, Irving!"

"I had my reasons." Said Irving, crossing his arms.

"Knight Commander, if I may..." Duncan's voice rang loud and clear. "I did not come to Circle just to recruit for the King's Army, but for the Grey Wardens, as well."

"You promised him a recruit?!"

"Nonsense. I simply bragged to Duncan about my marvelous apprentice, 'as I always do to anyone who will listen', like you always say."

"Knight Commander, this mage has proven herself smart, dedicated and loyal. The Grey Wardens need recruits like her."

"She just helped a blood mage escape! I cannot let a posible thrall of a bloodmage outside the tower!"

"Knight Commander, there are worst things out the then blood mages." Duncan said, eyeing Greagoir sternly, almost daring him to contradict him.

"And there may be a solution for that." Irving said. "The mages, the King's Army, and the Grey Wardens are camped in Ostagar, yes?" At Duncan's nod, he continued. "I propose you assign a templar to escort Duncan and Ariawyn to Ostagar, just in case your suspicions prove correct. Ser Cullen, for example, would be a great man for such a task."

Both Cullen and Ariawyn stood there, dumbfounded. Neither could believe what they were hearing.

"E-excuse me, F-first Enchanter?" Cullen spoke, his voice meek.

"You heard me, dear boy. I propose you accompany Duncan and Ariawyn to Ostagar, to keep and eye on Ariawyn, until she becomes a fully fleged Grey Warden."

"Cullen is only a boy, Irving. Why would I send a boy when I should and could send a more seasoned templar?" Greagoir asked.

"Because, though he may be young, Ser Cullen knows Ariawyn better than any of your Templars. He will know when she is acting strangely, and will know whether that behavior is due to her mood or possesion. Any other tenplar might missinterpret her quirks, shall we say, and will try to kill her. I would not have my star apprentice be struck down by an over zealous templar. "

Greagoir pondered his offer. Having a Templar escort Ariawyn until she proved herself in control would give him some peace of mind, but Ser Cullen? The boy was still green, he had never even had the chance to wield his sword against maleficar or abomination. Besides, there was his... emotional attachment to the mage. Every one could see it, which was why he had assigned him to deal the blow during her Harrowing, to try to harden him, or at least make him realize that he was a Templar and she a mage, and that whatever there was between them hadn't the slightest chance of working. But, on the other hand, Irving did have a point. Ser Cullen was always very devout and studious, and should Ariawyn be possessed or a thrall or a maleficar herself, Ser Cullen would know immediately. The fact that he knew her character as well could only improve his chances at recognizing signs or symptoms. He did not care to admit it to anyone but himself, but he would also hate for Ariawyn to be killed because the Templar he assigned to her was paranoid. He did care for the girl, and had enjoyed watching her grow up, safe in the Circle, after finding her in the Forrest, in that horrible situation. He was very glad when Wynne, after talking to the child, informed him that she somehow blocked all those horrible memories.

"Very well, I will agree to her recruitment on that condition . Ser Cullen, you are to accompany Enchanter Surana and Warden Commander Duncan to Ostagar."

"Excuse me, sir..." Ariawyn began, finally finding her voice, "Irving... I don't want to leave the Tower... I... I don't think I would make a suitable Grey Warden." She lowered her head, but Cullen was able to catch a glimpse of something he had never seen in her eyes before: fear. She was terrified.

Irving walked to her, placing both hands on her shoulders, steadying her. He was whispering something to her, words of encouragement, perhaps? Cullen could not hear what was being said, but could see her posture gently straighten, her head slowly rise, and determination creep up on her eyes. She nodded once at Irving and then walked up to the Warden Commander.

"I apologize, Warden Commander, for my words. I will be honored to serve the Order, and you, if you will have me."

"Of course, Ariawyn. It is okay to be afraid, child, I understand that." Duncan answered. "Now go pack and get ready. Your new life awaits. You too, young man. Be ready to leave in an hour."

"Y-yes, ser... W-warden Commander, ser." Cullen said, embarrassed by his stuttering in front of the Warden Commander.

"Ser Cullen, come to my office before you leave." Greagoir added.

"Yes, sir."

He followed Ariawyn and together, they walked silently to her rooms in the Mage Quarters. He thought about what this trip meant for him, for them. He would escort her to Ostagar, a place he had never been to before, and then what? Never see each other again? Was this the way the Maker was punishing them for their feelings?

"I never even got to spend one night in my new room." Ariawyn's voice broke the silence. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this as well. Irving never told me this is what he planned for me all along."

"Ari... are you not excited to become a Grey Warden?"

"Unlike other mages, I was quite content here in the tower. I had my books, my studies, my purpose in life, my... my Templar, who I could trust to always protect me." She looked up at him, under those straight lashes of hers, and Cullen's heart broke a little. "Well, at least Irving made sure I have my Templar for a little while longer."

"Ari..."

"I'll see you in an hour." And she went into her room and shut the door.

As Cullen walked upstairs, he reran the events of the morning in his mind. He woke up, trained, broke his fast, and then went to his post, where he ran into Ariawyn, who was upset. Now he knew why she was upset. Irving had tasked her with betraying her best friend, the blood mage, who in turn, had betrayed her. She had gone through with Irving's plan, and had gotten herself recruited into the Grey Wardens, with him to escort her until she graduated from recruit to Grey Warden at Ostagar.

He reached his room, pulled out his brown leather pack - a gift from Mia when he left for Templar training- from his trunk, and began packing meticulously a few extra shirts, socks and smalls. He also packed a whetstone and polishing oil and a few pieces of cloth, for his sword and armor. In one of the outer pockets, he placed the coin his brother had given him, also the day he left for Templar training. Finally, he packed his lyrium kit, and went to the Knight Commander's office.

He knocked on the door, and came in when he heard the Knight Commander's gruff' "Come in!"

"You wanted to see me, Knight Commander?"

"Cullen, yes. I just wanted to give you these." He pointed to five vials on his desk, their contents glinting a light blue light, their song calling to him. Lyrium. "That should last you a month, and when you reach Ostagar, well, they have a lot of lyrium in the Magi Encampment. I have spoken to the Warden Commander and learned he is not going directly to Ostagar."

"Where will he be going?"

"He said you will travel to Highever, and then go to Ostagar after passing the Brecilian Forrest. The man wants to continue recruiting, apparently."

Cullen remained silent, not knowing how to repond to the Knight Commander's obvious distaste for the Warden Commander, and opted for simply taking the vials and placing them delicately into his pack, in between the shirts and socks so they would not break.

"Rutherford..."

"Yes, sir?"

"Take care of her. And yourself."

"Yes, sir. May the Maker watch over you."

"May the Maker watch over you as well, my boy."

When Cullen reached the entrance, he found Ariawyn arguing with his friend Landon, the Quartermaster.

"Listen, ser, I am no longer a mage of the Circle, but a Grey Warden recruit. I am only asking to trade! I need that powder, your friend will need that powder!"

" I already told you: the lyrium powder is for Templars' use only. I cannot give a mage access to our stores!"

"It is for a Templar, you dumb twit! Do you think I need lyrium when I have my mana?!"

"Ariawyn, Landon, what's going on?"

Ariawyn turned, startled, and then began ranting. "This idiot thinks I am an idiot as well, that I don't know that Templars need lyrium to access their abilities, and that since lyrium is a highly adictive substance, you will go through withdrawal if you are short on it during our travels. He refuses to sell me some powder that is not even for me, but for you."

"Cullen, please explain to your charge that the powder is not for sale."

"I swear I will blast you with a fireball if you do-"

"Ariawyn, I have enough lyrium for the trip. The Knight Commander already gave me my doses for the month."

Ariawyn turned to look at him. "What if you run out?" she whispered. "I don't want you to-"

"I will be fine." He said simply. He could feel her concern for him and wanted to hug her so badly, but he couldn't, not in front of Landon.

Ariawyn, seeming to remember this, turned to Landon. "Very well. I apologize, then, Ser Landon, for my words. I only looked to protect the Templar who will be escorting me, so that he may have all of his senses and abilities intact."

"Don't worry about it, Enchan- I mean, Warden."

"I am not a Warden yet. Come, Ser Cullen, Duncan is waiting for us."

Duncan stood in front of the door, talking to Irving. Next to Irving was the Knight Commander and behind him was Solona. She walked to Ariawyn, tears in her eyes, and hugged her tightly, whispering farewells and safe travels. Ariawyn could feel herself tearing up, but tried her best not to cry. She would need to appear strong, she would need to be strong always from now on. So she broke the embrace and bid Solona goodbye. Irving walked up to her next, and enveloped her in a hug. She squeezed him tight and thanked him for all he had done for her the last fifteen years, and how she was so glad to have had a father figure such as him. "Ariawyn..." he responded, "it is I who should be glad to have had the privilege of raising such a great girl such as yourself." And he hugged her one last time, before Duncan asked the Templars standing guard to open the doors.

With one last look at Irving and Solona, and the home she was leaving behind, she walked forward. The light blinded her at first, but then she looked to the side and saw Cullen standing right next to her, his eyes warm and encouraging, giving her strength. Together, they took those first tentative steps outside, to the world, to Ferelden. She could do this. With Cullen at her side, she knew she could do this.


	6. 5. Of Cities and Castles

**9:30 Dragon Age, Highever**

 

Ariawyn turned, looking at the tower. Ever so often she would turn her head in its direction, watching it get smaller and farther away with every step. From this distance, it looked to be about half the size of her pinky finger. Cullen stopped with her, waiting for her out of pity or compassion, or something else, she did not know.

“Ariawyn…” Commander Duncan’s voice brought her back to reality. “Come, I want to find a suitable spot to make camp for the night, before we reach Highever tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, sir. My apologies, Warden Commander.” They had been walking for the past four days, stopping only for the midday meal and to camp at night. They were on their way to the city of Highever, on the Coastlands, apparently. Ariawyn was curious and a bit excited to see it, for she had never seen a city before, much less the sea, but she had to admit she missed the tower terribly. There were just so many _things_ outside! Things that were not described at all in her books or her maps, like mud, for instance, horrible thing that it was, dirtying her boots and the hems of the robes. Or the sun, with its beams so strong, burning her skin and blinding her eyes in the mornings. She was not too keen on camping, either. Sleeping on the cold, hard ground had hurt her back, and she wondered how it was possible that she had not caught a cold from the temperature drops right before dawn.

Finally, after a few more paces, Duncan led them off the Imperial Highway, into the trees, until they found a small clearing he deemed fit to make camp in. As they had done for the last three nights, Duncan left to set up traps and snares for rabbits, so they would have breakfast for the next morning, while Cullen and Ariawyn gathered firewood and began building a fire pit. As the wood was gathered and the traps were set, they sat down around the fire pit and Ariawyn lit it with a graceful snap of her fingers. As the orange flames began to consume the wood, they finally sat down and began eating dried bits of rabbit and some fruit they had collected on the way.

Cullen watched Ariawyn carefully. She had not said much the past three days, answering his questions with simple yesses or no's. He hated to see her so withdrawn. “Do you want to take first watch, Warden Commander?” For the past three nights, Duncan had taken first watch, since Ariawyn and Cullen were used to waking up in the middle of the night.

“We should take first watch tonight, Cullen.” Ariawyn said, staring intently at the flames. “Warden Commander Duncan is tired.” At Duncan’s surprised look, she continued. “Please do not deny it, Commander. I _am_ a spirit healer; I can sense it. Please just go to sleep early tonight and rest, the late nights have been taking a toll on your mind and body.”

Duncan was speechless for probably the second time in his life. He did have to admit he was exhausted to the bone, not from the traveling, as he was used to it, but… from the nightmares. After about 15 years of blocking them out, they had come back stronger than ever, to torment his nights. He only hoped he would live to see this Blight end, or die making the Ultimate Sacrifice, to be able to leave this world in peace. But these nightmares… they were the reason he always took first watch, to avoid going to sleep. Maybe they had heard him thrashing around, and that is why Ariawyn was offering to take first watch. “Very well. Thank you, Ariawyn.” He rose and began unfolding his bedroll. Then he began undoing the ties of his armor and placed his dagger and sword right next to his bedroll. Finally, he laid down, praying to the Maker for just _one_ night of uninterrupted darkness, just a dreamless sleep. As he closed his eyes, he felt himself letting go of reality, a feeling of warmth all over, and slept.

Cullen stared dumbfounded as Ariawyn removed her fingers from Duncan’s temples and walked back to the fire. She sat down next to him as if nothing had happened. “Did you just cast a _sleeping spell_ on your Commander?!”

“Ssh!” she quieted him. “He was not sleeping well, Cullen. You’ve heard him. So many nightmares are not good for you…” She bit her lip, her eyes unsure. “Cullen…?”

“Y-yes?”

“I… am sorry for... well, for being so distant the last couple of days.”

That completely threw him off. “Oh, um. T-that's, um, I mean, w-what… Are you okay?”

“Yes. It’s just that all this has been… a whirlwind. I-I just… I am so angry! I am angry Jowan for being a blood mage, I’m angry at Irving for not telling me what he _really_ planned or asking me if I even _wanted_ to become a Grey Warden! He just _chose_ my life's course for me! And h-he… h-he…” her lower lip began to tremble uncontrollably and a lump took residence in her throat.

Cullen wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in what he hoped was a _comforting_ hug. “And he…?”

“H-he’s the reason we… we will not be able to be together.” He froze as understanding dawned on him. That was why she had been so distant the last few days. She was mentally preparing herself for the inevitable, the moment they would have to part ways: Ostagar. He pushed her back a bit, to be able to see her face, and saw one lone tear make its way down her cheek. He wiped it with his thumb.

“D-did… D-do you think… Irving…”

“He knew about Jowan and Lily… he probably knew… about that kiss. He always said he became First Enchanter because he kept his eyes and ears open.”

“Ariawyn, I-“

“I don’t want to waste the time we have left. I do not know if Irving gave us this time as a gift or a punishment, but I would like to think he loved me, and would want me to be happy for a little while. Perhaps he suggested you accompany me, so we could be together, really be together, outside of the Circle and Chantry and all its laws. Perha-“ She was cut off by his lips on hers, demanding and hungry, like a man who had been starved for days and had finally received the mercy of a meal. She felt his hands rising on her waist, holding her tight, as if he was afraid she would slip away, and suddenly he was pulling her closer, slipping one hand beneath her legs and lifting her so she was sitting on his legs. He smelled so heavenly, a delicious combination of musk, smoke and sweat, and something else that she could not place, something that was just _Cullen._

When they finally parted, Cullen said, “Ari, please do not shut me out again.”

Ariawyn looked at his face, his wonderfully chiseled face that looked even more beautiful by firelight, and promised, “I won’t. Never again.” And they continued to hold each other until it was time to wake Duncan for his watch.

 

* * *

 

Highever was _loud._ Ariawyn had never seen so many people! The city was beautiful, with stone buildings and cobblestone houses. The market was crowded, merchants everywhere, selling their wares, everything from weapons to food to the finest Orlesian silks and oils. She did not fail to notice, however, the looks some people threw her way, while others openly stared at her robes, her ring, her staff, and most of all, her ears, so she opted for staying close to Duncan or Cullen.

They continued to browse some more, both men waiting patiently while Ariawyn talked to a merchant who ran a stall full of different types of medicinal herbs, when a different stall caught Cullen's eye. It appeared to be a stall filled with runes, amulets, and different colored stones. He signaled to the Warden Commander that he was going to it, and the old man simply nodded, and turned back to listening to Ariawyn’s conversation with the merchant.

“See somethin' you like, Ser Templar?” said a young boy when he saw him approaching.

“I’m just looking, thank you.” A small, pencil shaped pendant caught his eye, hanging merrily on a black leather cord. The stone was a beautiful dark shade of green, its different tones seemed to swirl inside of it, like the ocean waves.

“That’s jade, Ser Templar. It’s a good stone for people like you or them mages you hunt, too.”

“Really?” Cullen said, one eyebrow raising skeptically. “Why is that?”

“They say it’s connected to the Fade, that’s why it’s green you see. It helps them mages cast their spells, and for the rest of us it’s said to help us sleep better. No nightmares wearing that stone. It’s also said that the stone has healing properties, and is really good for medicine men to wear, or those mages that heal.”

“How much?” Cullen asked. He wanted to get it for Ariawyn, not because he believed the things the boy was saying, but because he liked the color of the stone, and it would look beautiful on her. Besides, green was her favorite color.

“Three silvers, Ser.”

Cullen took three coins from his coin purse and handed them to the boy, who took the necklace down from where it was hanged, and placed it in a small leather pouch. “Thank you, Ser. Have a good day.”

“Hey, what are you doing?” Cullen jumped, startled by Ariawyn’s voice. He hoped she had not seen the necklace.

“Oh, um, just loo-, browsing.” He looked to the merchant, uttering his thanks, before turning back to Ariawyn. “Where is  Commander Duncan?”

“He went to look at weapons. He told me to get you and meet him at the stall, so we could head on to Castle Cousland.”

“Then let’s not keep him waiting.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes, let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

“Open the gates!”

Ian watched from the battlements as the soldiers rushed to open the large wooden door, and three figures walked in. The first, he could recognize from his armor and stance, was none other than Warden Commander Duncan, the Commander of the Ferelden Grey Wardens. As for the other two, he guessed they were recruits, because he could not think of a single other reason of why a mage, he could tell by her golden robes, would be out of the Circle and Chantry custody. As he saw the Sword of Mercy on the third figure's armor and the distinctive purple skirts, he realized he might be wrong, as this mage had a Templar guarding her… maybe she was not a recruit, maybe she was helping the Commander in something?

“Little Lord?”

“Amina, why do you still call me that? I’m 23 years old, for Maker's sake.”

“You will always be a little Lord to me.” The elderly elven woman said simply, patting his cheek. “I was told to tell you your father has called for you. He is in the Main Hall with Arl Howe.”

“Thank you, Amina. I will go straight away.” Ian replied, and began walking to the main hall. He made his way to the Main Hall quickly, through the stone hallways and gardens, as it was not polite to keep Father waiting. As he entered, he saw his father laughing merrily with his old friend, reminiscing on the old days, when they fought Orlesians, not darkspawn.

“You called for me, Father.”

“Ah, pup, there you are! You remember Arl Howe of Amaranthine?”

“Of course. Arl Howe.” He bowed.

“And this young man is your youngest, Bryce! Ah, how fast the years have passed, my friend. He has certainly grown up to be quite an accomplished young man.” Arl Howe complimented, smiling a smile that reminded Ian of a snake, for some odd reason. “My daughter Delilah asked after you.”

“Ah, yes, I remember Delilah. A pleasant and well educated girl you have, Arl Howe, if a bit young.” He hoped the Arl would catch the hint, that he was in no way interested in his daughter. One of the few, shall we say, _problems_ of being a part of a prominent family in the country was that everyone looked at you like a mean to an end, a way to climb the political ladder that was Ferelden via an advantageous marriage. Many nobles of the court had been scandalized when his older brother, Fergus, had married an Antivan.

“Yes, well, she goes on and on about your prowess as a warrior. I think you have an admirer, young man.” _And no, he did not catch the hint,_ Ian thought.

“At any rate, Pup, I summoned you here to remind you that you will be in charge of the castle, while your brother and I are away”

“Then I must remind you I still believe you are making a mistake. Fergus has been educated and trained to run Highever, as your firstborn who will one day inherit these lands and all the responsibilities that come with it, while I have more martial and tactical training. I would be better suited to go with you.”

“Pup, I know that it would make more _logical_ sense if you came, but your mother would have 3 arrows in my arse for even suggesting it. She’s already in a fuss because Fergus and I are going!” Bryce laughed. “Anyhow, the other reason I summoned you is because there are other guests we must see to. Please, Damien, show Duncan and his recruits in.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Your Lordship, you did not mention the Grey Wardens were coming.”

“Duncan arrived this morning, unannounced. He is recruiting, apparently, and I’m afraid Ser Gilmore has caught his eye. Why? Is there a problem, Howe?”

“No, my lord. It is just that such guests require certain protocols. I am at a disadvantage.”

Moments later, in walked Duncan, with the small mage and Templar behind him. Ian noticed the young girl was an elf, as he had not seen her pointy ears from the battlements.

Ariawyn was in awe, she had never seen such a luxurious room! She had to remind herself to not stare at everything open mouthed. The room was an exquisite mixture of stone and wood, its high stone walls seeming to blend with intricate patterns carved into its wooden parts. Lush green carpets decorated the floors and above the fireplace stood a grand portrait of the current Cousland family. Teyrn Bryce Cousland seemed like an agreeable man, the type of man you could tell was very handsome in his younger years, and behind him was his son, she could see the resemblance. The boy had his father’s blue eyes, and had inherited his chiseled face. He was taller than Cullen, or maybe it seemed like it, given he stood tall and proud, but not intimidating. He had raven black hair, cropped short to his head, except for a spiky bit in the front, that contrasted with his light skin.

”It is an honor to be a guest in your halls, Teyrn Cousland.” Duncan bowed. “May I present Ariawyn Surana, Warden Recruit from Kinloch Hold, and Ser Cullen Rutherford.” Ariawyn curtsied and Cullen bowed.

“Well met, Lady Ariawyn, Ser Cullen.” Bryce answered. “May I present my youngest son, Ian Cousland, and Arl Howe of Amaranthine.”

“A pleasure.” Arl Howe said, though his face said there was nothing pleasurable about this. It was clear he was uncomfortable with the Wardens' presence.

Ian, however, bowed before the recruits, and took Ariawyn's hand and kissed it. The young girl blushed scarlet, her discomfort showing clear in her face, and glanced back to the Templar, who frowned immediately. “Very nice to make your acquaintance, Lady Ariawyn, Ser Cullen. I hope your travels were pleasant enough. We've been having great weather lately. Did you come here straight from the Tower?”

Ariawyn opened her mouth to answer, but Cullen cut her off with a curt, “Yes we did.”

Ian smiled, noticing he had obviously irritated the Templar with his small attentions to the mage. Either he was very zealous, or there was something going on between them. “Then you must be exhausted. Since you will be my guests for the duration of your stay, please allow me to show you to your rooms.”

Ariawyn looked at Duncan, who nodded. “It’s okay, Ariawyn, go. The Teyrn and I have matters to discuss, matters that do not require your presence. Take the rest of the day to rest.”

“Yes, Warden Commander.” She followed Ian out of the Main Hall, admiring the roofless halls, the paintings on its walls perfectly complimented by the bright sun. However, they had barely stepped out of the Hall, when a red haired knight came running up to them, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

“Lord Ian… I… your…”

“Catch your breath, man!” Ian laughed, waiting for the knight to recover. “Oh, Lady Ariawyn, Ser Cullen, this is Ser Gilmore.”

“Just Ariawyn, please. Nice to meet your Ser.”

“Charmed, my lady. Lord Ian, I’m afraid your hound-“

“Oh, wait, don’t tell me. Is Rhaella in the larder again?”

“Yes, my lord. Nan, she is threatening to skin us all alive if it keeps happening.”

Ian laughed, finding it amusing how a grown man, a knight, was afraid of the old thing that was Nan. He turned, and with an apologetic smile, said, “I am so sorry, I must take care of this. Do you mind?”

“Oh, um, no, n-not at all.” Ariawyn answered.

“Thank you.” They began walking to the kitchens, and soon, they could hear the yelling.

“Where in the Void is everybody?! Do not just stand there, you nitwits! Do something!” Nan turned, and spotted Ian, giving him a murderous look. “You! Get your _mutt_ now! I’ve got a whole army to feed, and I can’t feed them her scraps!”

“Now, Nan, easy.” Ian tried to make his tone as soothing as possible. “I am going to get her right now.” He could not even make it to door, before he heard barking and things crashing down. He opened the door, and what must have been a dozen enormous, fat rats ran out, Alena on their heels. Nan and the elven servants scream and fumbled to catch or kill some of the rats with knives and pots.

“Do something! No, don’t let them touch the food!”

Suddenly there was a chain of lighting that hit all the rats at the same time, and they dropped to the floor, dead. The smell of burnt rat was overwhelming, like burnt flesh mixed with rotten food. They all turned to look at Ariawyn, different expressions on all their faces.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I-I just wanted to help. I used to do it all the time, in the Tower, not with rats, mind you, but with spiders, in the storero-“

“You foolish girl!” the old woman began, and Cullen stepped in front of Ariawyn, glaring at Nan.

“I-I’m sorry, I-“

“You stunk up my whole kitchen! Stupid elf! How I am supposed to cook here now? I can’t serv-“

“Nan, enough!” the old woman quieted immediately. “You are talking to a Grey Warden recruit! One who was only trying to help you, when she could have not even bothered!” Ian took a deep breath to calm down. He loved Nan, but hated how bad of a temper she had. “I apologize, Lady Ariawyn. Your help _is_ appreciated. I will show you to your rooms now. Rhaella!” the mabari looked up from a rat she was smelling. “Come, girl.” Rhaella trotted happily to Ian’s side. “After you, please.”

Ariawyn turned to walk out, head down, staring intently at the floor. Cullen followed, and put a hand on her shoulder, it was the most comfort he could offer in public. He had hated the old woman’s reaction. _“Stupid elf?!”_ He could feel his blood boiling at the comment, and had Nan been born a man, he would not have hesitated to punch her.

Finally, they reached the guest quarters, and Ian showed them to their rooms. Ariawyn’s room was bigger than the one she was assigned at the Tower, with beautiful lilac silk curtains, a four poster bed and decorated with fresh flowers on the nightstand. She stood in awe for just a moment, before remembering to thank Ian. “Thank you, my lord. This room is beautiful.”

“I am glad you like it.” He stepped a little closer, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Ariawyn had to resist the urge to squirm. “I really am sorry for the things Nan said. She is not a bad person, she just has a bit of a temper.”

“Oh, um, that’s all right. I should have just minded my own business, but I thought-“

“You thought your spell would be the easiest way to get rid of the pests, with a minimal mess. And you were right, you were absolutely correct.”

“Thank you.”

Cullen cleared his throat. He did not like how Ian kept touching Ariawyn. _I am not jealous, I am protecting her,_ he argued with himself, _who knows what his intentions are with her?_

“Ser Cullen, pardon for my rudeness. I will show you to your room right now.” As they walked out, Ian could not help his curiosity, “So, Ser Cullen, I did not know the Grey Wardens could recruit Templars into their ranks…”

“I am _not_ a Grey Warden Recruit.” Cullen growled. “I have been tasked to escort Enchanter Surana and the Warden Commander to Ostagar, until she officially joins the Grey Wardens.”

“Oh, very well then, Ser. Then I guess you would want a room close to hers, so as to keep an eye on your charge.” An impish smirk on his face. _Oh, yes_ _there is definitely something between them._ “Please, if you need anything, do not hesitate to send for me.” He gave Cullen a cheerful smile and walked out of the room.

When Cullen was sure he was gone, he went to Ariawyn's room. He knocked a couple of times, before he heard a soft “come in”. “Ari? Are you okay?”

“Cullen,” she smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. “Yes, I'm okay.”

“Are you sure?” he moved to sit next to her on the bed.

“Yes, it’s just… I have never felt so self conscious about being an elf. In the market, many people stared at me, at my ears, my staff… some gave me horrible looks, and I do not know if it’s because I an elf or a mage. Maybe both… And then the cook-“

“Oh, Ari, please do _not_ listen to her. Like Lord Ian said, your spell was the fastest way to kill all the rats without making a mess. I mean, what did the old bat have in mind? Smashing them with pots, and leaving blood all over the kitchen?”

“Yes, I know…” she smiled, and he blushed, and wondered if he would always react to her that way.

“A-anyway, I um… well the reason I came was because I, um, got you something.”

She tilted her head, like a confused puppy. “Really?”

“Yes, um…” he took the leather pouch from his belt and opened it, the jade pendant falling into the palm of his hand. “It’s a p-pendant, a jade pendant, I mean.”

Ariawyn moved to touch the stone gently with her finger, as if afraid it would break at her touch. “Cullen… it’s beautiful! Thank you. Will you…?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” She turned and lifted her hair, exposing the exquisite curves of her neck. He tied the leather cord tightly around, and when his fingers accidentally brushed her neck, he heard her breath catch. Unable to help himself, he brought his lips to her neck and grew confident when he heard her sigh. He trailed kisses down the curve of her neck and onto her shoulders, pulling the neck of her robe with the one hand, to reveal more of that soft white skin.

Ariawyn's skin seems to glow under his lips, a warmth she had never felt before pooling in her stomach. It was then when she knew.

“Cullen,” she turned to face him. “I love you.”

He only stared for what seemed like an eternity. When he finally moved, it was to cup her cheek with her hand. “I've always loved you.” He whispered.

They looked at each other for the longest time, and when Ariawyn took his arm and began removing his gauntlets, he says nothing. When she fumbles with the ties to his breastplate, he says nothing. When she stands and pulls the golden robe over her head, revealing her small elven frame just for him, he says nothing, for there is nothing to say, really. This moment should not be filled with words, only looks, and touch and kisses, gentle caresses on soft skin. This moment should not be filled with thought either, only actions and feeling. If he began to think, all those voices would come back into his head to talk him out of it. _She is a mage,_ they say. _She is your charge_ , they say. _She'll leave to become a Grey Warden,_ they say. Cullen shuts them out, replacing them with her luminous skin and wide eyes, eyes he’s always loved, now filled with an immense vulnerability.

He stands and goes to her. In this room, they are not mage and templar, charge and guardian, or templar and Grey Warden. They are just Cullen and Ariawyn.


	7. 6. Last of his Line

After the whole debacle with Nan, Ian decided to go back to the Great Hall, to see if he could help Father and Duncan with anything. The Maker seemed to have different plans for him, though, since he had barely taken a couple of steps before spotting Mother and her guests. What made it worst was that they also spotted him, therefore he was obligated to greet them. _Maker's breath, I can’t catch a break,_ he thought. He wanted to go back to the Main Hall, and see if he could convince his father to change his mind.

"Oh, darling, there you are!" Eleanor came to him and hugged him tight. "I've not seen you all morning! Where have you been?" She took his hands and led him back to where her guests were.

"After breakfast I went to meet Father, Arl Howe and Warden Commander Duncan in the Great Hall. After meeting the Commander's new recruits, I showed them to their rooms."

"I suppose, since the yelling has stopped, that Ser Gilmore found you and told you Rhaella had gotten into the larder again?"

"Yes, I took care of it." He unconsciously patted the mabari's head.

"Good." She stopped in front of an older woman in a fine green silk dress, a boy about his age and what he assumed was the lady's elven servant. "Honey, you remember Lady Landra?”

“Yes, of course. It is nice to see you again, my lady.” Ian took her hand and kissed it.

“Oh, you are too kind, dear boy!” Landra gushed, covering her mouth with one hand. “I think the last time I saw you was your mother’s spring salon, in which, I believe, I was shamelessly flirting with you.”

“And in front of the whole family, too.” Dairren added, with a smirk.

The old woman shot her son a playful dirty look and said, “You remember my son Dairren? I believe you two sparred in the last tourney.”

“I would not even call it sparring! You did beat me handily, after all. It's good to see you again, my lord.”

“Ian, please. It's nice to see you as well, Dairren.”

“And this is my lady in waiting, Iona.” The young elven woman bowed her head, but would not look him in the eye. “Go on, do say something, girl.” Landra urged.

“It is a great honor, my lord. I've heard so many wonderful things about you.” 

“Charmed, my lady Iona.” Ian gallantly kissed her hand, while looking up at her under thick dark lashes, until the girl blushed, and he noticed from the corner of his eye Eleanor and Lady Landra exchange knowing looks.

“Well, Eleanor, I believe I'll go rest a bit before dinner.” Lady Landra said. "Will you come, Dairren?" 

"I can escort you, if you'd like, Mother, but afterwards I wish to see the library." Dairren looked sheepishly at Ian. "I mean, such a grand castle must have a great library, yes?"

"Of course,” Ian said. “Father and Grandfather have collected many books in the past years and Master Aldous will point you to the best ones." Ian smiled. 

“Thank you, my lo- I mean, Ian.” He offered his arm to Landra, and they began walking towards the guest quarters, Iona following close behind them, but not before stopping to look back at Ian.

“What about you, Mother? Do you need something?”

“Oh no, my dear, I think I will just go back to our rooms. Maybe stop to say goodbye to Fergus.”

“Fergus! Yes, that sound like a perfect idea!”

* * *

  
Ian stood outside his brother’s door for a moment, not wanting to interrupt what could possibly be the last few moments with his family for months. Maker, how he wished he could go with Father, and leave Fergus here, safe and happy with his family. 

“Ian? What are you doing outside of my door?”

“I did not want to interrupt, Brother.”

“Well, you should’ve!” Oren interrupted. “They were doing yucky things before you showed up!” he complained.

“Oh, really? Like what Oren?” 

Ian crouched and Oren whispered in his ear, “They kissed!”

“How terrible that must have been for you, Oren, to have to witness such a thing! For shame, brother, for shame!”

Oriana came out of the bathroom of their room, face freshly washed, but with eyes a tad puffy. She had been crying. “Ian, hello!” She tried giving him a cheery smile, but couldn’t quite pull it off.

“Hello, darling sister.” He went to hug her. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, everything okay. I just get a bit teary eyed when I think about sending Fergus off to war.” she answered, her musical voice still strongly accented, revealing her Antivan descent.

“As do we all, my darling.” Eleanor remarked, stepping into the room with Bryce.

“Father, I thought you were still with Duncan.”

“I ended the meeting early.” He said dismissively. “I wanted to be with my whole family before Fergus had to ride out.”

“Shall we say a prayer?” Oriana suggested. They all nodded and grabbed each other’s hands. Oren’s hand was sticky, Ian noticed. _I wonder what candy he was eating before this._

“Maker sustain and preserve us all. Watch over our sons, husbands and fathers and bring them safely back to us.”

“And bring us ale and wenches while you’re at it!” Fergus laughed. Oriana frowned, and he hastily added, “For the men, darling! For the men!”

“What’s a wench? Is that what you pull on to get the bucket out of the well?” Oren asked.

“A wench is woman who pours the ale in a tavern, Oren. Or a woman who drinks a lot of ale.” Bryce answered. Fergus and Ian couldn’t help laughing.

“Bryce!” Eleanor reprimanded. “I swear, it’s like living with a pack of small boys! Thank the Maker for my sweet daughter in law.”

Fergus wiped a tear from his eye, still laughing, before finally calming down and saying, “I will miss you, too, Mother dear.”

“Come, son. The men are already all assembled in the yard. We’ll see you off.”

They made their way to the courtyard, where the whole of their household was assembled, to see their lord off. Fergus kissed his wife and son one more time, then Mother and hugged Father and Ian.

“I wish I could go with you, brother.”

“I wish you could as well, Ian. Just look after my wife and son for me, will you?” He ruffled Ian's hair and then walked to the stable master, who was holding the reigns to his horse. Fergus took the reigns from him and mounted the beautiful chestnut stallion.

“Men!” Fergus bellowed. “Tonight, we ride south to join the war against the darkspawn!” The soldiers beat their spears against their shields once. “Tonight, we ride south to answer our King’s call! Tonight, we ride south to protect Ferelden from a threat that is ages old! And tomorrow,” he stopped, for suspense, “tomorrow, we will show those monsters why the soldiers of Highever are the best warriors in the land! We will beat them back to the deep roads and make them never want to return to surface!” The cheering was thunderous, the soldiers beating their spears against their shields. Fergus drew his sword and raised it. “For Highever, for King Cailan, for Ferelden!” His horse reared, and then Fergus kicked it into a gallop, riding towards the open gate, followed by his bannermen, the Cousland heraldry raised proudly, the two wreaths on a blue field. Then came the knights and finally, the foot soldiers. All in all, they made up a force of five thousand strong.

Ian and his family stayed to watch until the last line of soldiers was barely visible. “Well, he is getting better at making speeches.” Ian laughed.

“It was marvelous!” Oriana gushed. 

“Yes, it was. It surely inspired the men.” Eleanor added.

“Shall we go to the dining hall? Did you get a look at what Nan was preparing when you went to the kitchens, Ian?” Bryce asked.

“Trust me, Father, you don’t want to know.”

As they made their way to the dining hall, Eleanor asked a servant to fetch their guests and see them to the dining hall. After a little while, Dairren came in, escorting his mother and Iona, and took their places at the long table, beside Eleanor, who was seated at the head of the table with Bryce. Arl Howe sat next to Bryce, and then came Duncan, but his recruit and her templar escort were no where to be seen. Funny, that, Ian thought, as he sat between Iona and Oriana.

“Duncan?”

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Just Ian, please. Where are Enchanter Ariawyn and Ser Cullen?”

“Probably still in their rooms, resting. I imagine the past few days have been hard on them, neither are used to traveling.”

“Yes, of course. I was about to comment on that actually. What made you recruit the Enchanter? She has spent her whole life in the tower, and seems… sheltered.” He decided to settle on that word, as opposed to naive or soft.

“Well, don’t let her looks deceive you. She is actually a very powerful mage, according to the First Enchanter, and he should know, for she was his apprentice. He told me she was the first apprentice to pass her Harrowing so quickly, and has already mastered magic suited for Senior Enchanters. She is also a talented spirit healer, and has studied alchemy and botany as well. In short, she has many attributes that would make her a suitable Grey Warden.” 

“Wow, so don’t look down on the little elven mage, got it!” Ian winked.

Conversation began as the dishes began to come out, soups and broiled fish, shellfish and steamed lobster and crab, for Highever was a coastal city famous for its sea food, and Ian decided to pay his attentions to the pretty elf seated next to him. “My lady Iona, how did you come to be in the service of Lady Landra?”

“Oh, well… my mother was a servant in her household, who died when I was young, so Lady Landra took me in and gave me the position when I was old enough.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, my lord. I consider myself luckier than most of my people. I hope to pass the position to my daughter.”

“Wow, you have a daughter? You look so young!”

“Yes, Amethyne.”

“I dare wager she has your beautiful eyes.” He smiled. Iona blushed and knocked over the salt shaker, picking it up hastily.

“Um, y-yes. Well, many people say she looks just like me. I am the only one who sees some of her father in her.”

“He’s a very lucky man, then, to be surrounded by two beautiful women.”

Iona was silent, before whispering, “He died.”

“Oh, my lady, I am so sorry.” He took her hand and gave it what he hoped was a comforting squeeze.

“It’s fine, my lord.” 

There was little to be said after that, so he focused on his dinner, paying little attention to the conversations around him.

* * *

 

Sunset's light entered the lilac room through the window, casting a small glow. Soon it would be dark enough for them to have to light candles, but for now, the light was just low enough to be deemed romantic. _Of course, everything about this afternoon had been romantic_ , Cullen thought, as he looked at Ari, her head resting merrily on his chest. He could not help himself and pulled her even closer to him, and cupped her breast with his hand. It fits perfectly, he marveled.

“Why do you like them so much?” She asked, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“I honestly don’t know!” He laughed. He let his tone drop a bit lower, and whispered in her ear, “I like everything about you.”

She rewarded him by shifting so she was fully on top of him, her breasts pressed on his chest and giving him a passionate kiss.

“Oh, you evil woman, the things you do to me.”

She laughed against his neck, sending chills down his spine. “It’s your own fault, you’re irresistible to me.”

“At least let me get my strength back or I swear I won’t survive the night.” 

“I can wait.” She gave him a flirtatious smile. “I'm quite comfortable, anyway.” She settled her palms on his chest and rested her chin on top. He let her hands roam the small curve of her waist, each time wandering farther down her figure. “Hey, Cullen?”

“Hmm?”

“I know I should’ve asked this before… but, um, do Templars take vows?” her tone emphasized the last word.

Not understanding her true meaning, he said, “Well, there’s a vigil first. You have to be at peace, before –“

“No, Cullen, I know about those vows!” she said, trying not to laugh. “I meant are there vows of celibacy? Vows I might have made you break just now.” Her eyes her alight with laughter, and he felt incredibly foolish at not having gotten her meaning the first time. 

“Oh, well, no. I’ve heard some Templars choose to give this up to prove their devotion, but it’s not mandatory or anythi-“

"Have you?" She interrupted.

"Oh, um, no. I've made no such vow."

She put her fingers to his lip, silencing him, and said, “That’s all I needed to know.” And kissed him. The moment, however, was broken when his stomach growled, loudly. She stopped the kiss, looked into his eyes, and began laughing wildly.

“Oh, stop. It’s not that funny.” Cullen said, trying to appear offended, before chuckling a bit.

“Yes, it is.” She looked to the window, and saw the sunset had given way to night, stars lighting the black sky. She lit the candles in her room, and the hearth, with a graceful snap of her fingers. “Come, we've already missed dinner, but let’s go see if there’s any leftovers. I bet the kitchen elves will give us some food if we ask nicely.” She smiled and he felt her pleasant weight lift from his body, and watched as she got up and began picking her clothes off the floor.

“Are you okay?” 

“Of course I am.”

“Are you sure? You seemed like you were in pain for a bit there.”

“Well, it hurt for a moment, but I’m okay now.” She waved her hand dismissively.

“Oh, okay. G-good, that’s good.” He sat up on the bed, and she tossed him his smalls, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if this had been their hundredth time and not their first. That’s when it occurred to him… “Ari?”

“Hmm?” she said, her voice muffled by her robe. He waited until she got her head through the hole before continuing.

“D-did you…? I mean, how wa- um… did you like it? Me?” he asked sheepishly, face coloring.

“Cullen!” she practically ran back to the bed and tackled him, so she was laying on top of him again. “Of course I liked it. I was with the man I love. What could be better than that?”

He let out a long breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Oh, okay, good. That’s a good thing, but um… d-did you, um…”

“Come?” there was laughter in her eyes, she wasn’t at all shy when talking about this. “Well, I don’t really know, which probably means I didn’t, because Sol says when you do, you know. But that’s okay, she told me women almost never come their first time.” Ariawyn could hear her rambling, and blushed.

“First time? Ari, was this, was I, your first time?” he was completely shocked! She had seemed so confident through the whole thing, like she knew exactly what she was doing and why she was doing it! And she knew things! She did things!

“Of course it was! Cullen!” she hit his arm. “Who else would there be? Why would you think I’ve done this before? Wait, have you?”

“N-no!”

“Then why would you think I have?”

“I don’t know! You just seemed to know what you were doing!”

"Well, I didn't. I haven't, until now, until you." She blushed. "Come, let's go get some food. I'll help you with your armor."

Once they were fully dressed, Ariawyn opened the door, only to find Duncan in the hall, and though she tried to close it and turn, she didn't see that Cullen was right behind her, and she crashed into his breastplate, again.

"Ariawyn?! Are you all right?!" Duncan asked.

"Ouch, yes, I'm fine." she accepted Cullen's hand and stood, but didn't dare look Duncan in the eye, as she was pretty certain her face was red. She could practically feel the heat emanating from her skin.

"You kids missed dinner." Duncan commented, a smirk on his face.

"That would be my fault, Warden Commander. Enchanter Surana asked me to teach her some battle tactics, how to defend herself on the field and such, and I lost track of time." Cullen said, completely serious, his face betraying nothing.

"Ah, you were training?"

"Yes, Ser."

"In her room? Instead of the yard, where there are weapons and equipment, like dummies and such?" He lifted an eyebrow, still smirking.

"O-oh, um, yes. I was demonstrating how she should defend herself in close quarters, Ser."

"Huh. Young man, you do know that mages are range fighters, not melee? That we strategically place them behind the melee fighters, with the archers, to help cover the warriors with their spells?"

"Oh, yes, of course, but this was in case the darkspawn broke the lines, Ser."

"Ah, of course." Duncan said, his cocky grin giving way to a broad smile. "Well, should you continue training once we leave Highever, I do ask you be discreet. Maybe, before training, Ariawyn could cast a sleeping spell on me again, and on any of the recruits we might find on the road." He chuckled, and Ariawyn wanted to die of embarrassment. She glanced at Cullen and saw his face had turned crimson as well.

"Yes, Ser."

"Commander, I'm sorry for placing you under a spell, I ju-"

"Ariawyn, it's fine. More than fine, actually. It was the best sleep I'd gotten in a long while. Though for safety reasons, I will ask you not do it again. You will understand once you take the Joining."

"Yes, Ser. My apologies, Commander." She bowed her head.

"Now go, I'm sure you must be hungry after your training session." He laughed, and left the red faced couple to go to his room.

After a couple of minutes, Ariawyn took Cullen's hand and began guiding him towards the kitchens.

"Well," Cullen broke the silence. "That did not go at all like I expected."

"And just what did you expect?"

"I thought he would have sent me back to the Tower, for a start. Or maybe send a raven to Knight Commander Greagoir, telling him I..."

"Slept with your charge?" Ariawyn asked, with a smile. "Well, Duncan's a Grey Warden... I don't think he cares at all about Chantry politics. To him, I'm a recruit and you're a Templar, and as long as you don't interfere in my duty, which is fighting darkspawn, he doesn't care if we're together."

They continued walking, hand in hand in the low light of the castle sconces, and were passing the open doors of the Main Hall, when Ariawyn saw something odd. The Teyrn was laying on the ground, that Arl towering over his body. At first, she didn't really process what was going on, until she saw the dark crimson liquid staining the Teyrn's blue coat. "Cullen," she tugged on his arm. "Cullen, something's wrong." she whispered, and then the Arl turned around and saw them.

"Shit! Carm, Detton, they saw us! Kill them! Kellan, signal the others and open the gate!" The elf, Kellan, seemed to disappear from the room, running towards the gates, while the other two men charged at them.   
Cullen reacted instantly, drawing his sword and parrying one man's blow with it, while bashing the other one with his shield. _Thank the Maker he donned his armor, instead of just coming out with his shirt and breeches_ , Ariawyn thought absently, failing to realize one of the men, had gotten past Cullen and was running towards her, sword raised. Primal instinct took over her then, adrenaline coursing through her veins, carrying with it the need to survive, and she cast the first spell that came to her. Lightning shot through her fingers and hit the man square in the chest, his metal armor seemed to conduct the electricity to his limbs and the man lay dead.

Ariawyn's vision blurred, she could distantly hear yelling, could smell smoke, and then Cullen was there, right in front of her, hands on her shoulders.

"Ari! Ari, are you all right?"

"I killed him." She said, unable to take her eyes off the charred corpse of Carm or Detton or whoever he was.

"Ari, it's okay, he attacked you. Ariawyn, I need you to look at me! Ariawyn, look at me!" His rough tone made her get out of her trance, and she looked at him. " We need to get Teyrn Cousland out of here. I need you to heal his wound, so we can get him somewhere safe and find Duncan! Can you do that?"

"Yes, yes I can." Ariawyn made her way to the Teyrn. She let her magic wash over him, and the wound on his stomach began knitting itself together. The Teyrn had lost a lot of blood, so she commanded her magic to accelerate his blood production, and in a matter of tense minutes, he began to stir.

The other door to the Main Hall flew open, and in came a small garrison of knights, and Cullen tensed himself for battle. One knight took off his helm, and he realized it was the ginger knight they had met that afternoon.

"Stand down!" Ser Gilmore commanded. He made his way to where the Teyrn and Ariawyn were, but Cullen stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

"She's just healing him, Ser. The Teyrn was stabbed by Arl Howe."

"That traitorous bastard. His forces are attacking the castle!" Ser Gilmore said, running a hand through his sweaty hair. 

The Teyrn finally opened his eyes, and Ariawyn's light blue healing light faded. "Teyrn Cousland, can you hear me?"

"Yes," he said hoarsely. "Y-yes, Enchanter."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Yes." He coughed.

"My lord, the Arl's forces are attacking the castle."

"My family?"

"We have not been able to reach the family quarters, my lord."

"M-my son. He will protect them. H-he will." _He's still so weak_ , Ariawyn thought, _Shit, if only we'd gotten here sooner! It will begin taking effect soon!_

"S-ser Gilmore, when my son comes through here, tell him of the larder. Enchanter, Ser C-cullen, can yo-" he began coughing roughly, each cough wracking his body with great force. Ariawyn immediately summoned more magic, and pressed her palm to his chest. The Teyrn's coughing began to subside and Ariawyn helped him stand, while Cullen went to his side and placed of the Teyrn's arm over his shoulder, steadying him.

"Ser Cullen, there is a way out of the Castle, through the larder. If we can get to it, you can escape."

"Yes, my lord." Cullen said.

"Ser Gilmore, try to hold them off of us, and off my family, when they come."

"Yes, my lord."

"Ser Gilmore, can you spare a man to go find Commander Duncan?"

"No need for that, Ariawyn." Duncan walked into the Main Hall, breathing heavily and covered in blood. He went to support the Teyrn's other side. "I'm afraid your other guests are dead, Bryce."

"Maker, guide their souls to your side. We must get to the larder. Hold the doors, Ser Gilmore." Cullen and Duncan began to lead the Teyrn to the kitchens, but before Ariawyn could follow, Ser Gilmore grabbed her wrist.

"Thank you for saving the Teyrn."

"I did not save him. I just closed his wound. I'm afraid... the blade was poisoned."

* * *

"My lord! My lord, wake up! Ian! Wake up." 

"What is it, Iona?" Ian asked, groggily, rubbing sleep from his eyes. She had come to him in the moonlight, unsummoned, but definitely not unwelcome.

"Your hound, she's growling at the door. I think something's going on." 

Ian sat up, and saw Rhaella was restless, ears down, her body aggressively poised to attack. He heard distant yelling, and got up. "Iona, get up! Get up and get dressed." He picked his smalls and his shirt from the floor and tugged them on rapidly. The yelling was getting louder, and it was beginning to smell like smoke and brimstone. He tugged on his leather breeches and then went to his armor rack. He donned his breastplate, his pauldrons and gauntlets, and his grieves, just in time his door opened and two soldiers came in. One shot a crossbow bolt directly in Iona's chest, killing her instantly, but before he could turn to Ian, Rhaella tackled him, her massive weight knocking him down and her teeth tore out his throat.

Ian charged the second knight as he moved to strike. He swung his sword in a wide arc, too wide, Ian thought, which left his right side uncovered, so he blocked the man's hit with his shield, steel on steel coming together with a screech, and drove his sword into the man's side. The man stumbled, and Ian gracefully swung his sword, aiming for his uncovered neck, and cut the man's throat. 

Rhaella came to his side and when he stepped out he saw his mother, dressed in fine, leather armor, crying at the door of Fergus' room.

"Mother!" He ran. "Mother, the castle is under sie-" Is that...? Oren? Oriana?, he thought, as he stared at his nephew's body and the crimson pool beneath it. Oriana lay a bit to the side, her hand reaching out to her son, eyes open and hollow and dead.

"They killed Oren. They killed my grandson! They killed my daughter!" Eleanor cried. 

"Where's Father?"

"He was having a drink with Howe in the Main Hall. He hadn't come to bed yet." She burst out crying again.

“Mother! Mother! We need to leave! We need to go now!” He pulled her on her feet, and made his way through the castle. _I must find Father_ , he thought, _but I can’t let Howe get to the Sword and Shield_. He looked at his mother and knew she was thinking the exact same thing.

“It will only take a moment, Ian. You know he can’t get them. Without them, he’ll never be the true lord of Highever, even if he takes this castle!” The determination in his mother’s voice convinced him, and together with Rhaella, they made their way to the Treasury. The guards posted outside were all dead, some with arrows protruding out of them, others missing limbs, but they had done their duty, the door was still locked. 

“Do you have the key?”

“Yes.” His mother took the key from her belt and opened the door. “Fill your pockets with all the gold you can carry. We’ll need it for the road.”

Ian obeyed and stuffed the purses of his belt with all the coin he could carry, and then made his way to the weapons rack. There, sitting proudly on the top was the Shield of Highever, sylverite of the finest quality with the twin wreaths on its center. Beneath it was the Sword of Highever, the beautiful long blade, also sylverite, with runes glowing on it, handcrafted for the family by the dwarves of Orzammar. The Sword and Shield had been passed from Father to Son all the way back to the founding of their house, and whoever held them was considered by the noble and common folk alike the true lord of Highever.

“Quick, Ian. Leave your old sword here and use it!” Eleanor urged.

“It belongs to Father, not me!”

“That doesn’t matter! Just take it, Ian!”

Since this really was not the time to argue, he took the shield, leaving his old one behind, and the sword. Both were lighter than his old ones, and the blade was still sharper than his old one. They left the Treasury closed and made their way to the Main Hall, avoiding small fires on the halls, or fighting their way through small groups of Howe's men. 

When they finally reached the Hall from the back entrance, they saw Highever knights fighting fiercely with the Arl’s forces, and they had not seemed to notice them. Eleanor took advantage of that and began firing arrow after arrow at all the soldiers with the Amaranthine Bear on their armor. Suddenly, a fireball came straight for her, and Ian barely managed to push her put of the way, before beginning to look for the source. What in the Void is a mage doing here?!, Ian thought. How Howe had managed to find and recruit an apostate was beyond him. Maker, where is the Templar when you need him?! But he really shouldn’t have worried, for suddenly an arrow shot through the mage’s head, and he looked back to see his mother smirking.

“Bitch thinks she can throw a fireball at me and get away with it? Maker will turn the Black City golden again before that happens!”

Ian threw himself into the frey, parrying and blocking and stabbing and cutting limbs and heads, until he was back to back with Ser Gilmore. They made quick work of the few soldiers that were left, with his mother shooting any that tried to run.

 

“Ser Gilmore, my father?”  
“Bar the doors! Use book shelves, the furniture, I don’t care!” Gilmore shouted, and the few men that were

left obeyed immediately. “My lord, your father made his way to the secret passage in the larder, with the Warden Commander and his recruits!”

“Thank the Maker!” his mother sighed in relief. “Ser Gilmore, the castle is lost. I know that much, but I need you to hold the door until my family has escaped.”  
Ser Gilmore placed a hand to his heart and bowed his head. “Of course, my lady. Now I must urge you to go.”

“It was an honor to fight beside you, Ser Gilmore.” Ian said.

“And you, my lord.” They hugged, brothers in arms, knowing they would not meet again.

After a few tense minutes of running, they finally reached the larder, and saw Bryce coughing and vomiting blood and bile. Ariawyn knelt beside him, her hands on his back and chest, beads of sweat forming on her forehead, hands alight with blue healing magic. 

“Bryce!” his mother shouted and went to him. “Can he stand?!” She asked Ariawyn, who only looked at her, but did not answer, hands never leaving his father’s back and chest.

“No, he cannot.” She answered finally. There was pain in her eyes, Ian could see it, and dread. “I'm afraid the Teyrn is paralyzed.”

“What?! How?!” Ian shouted, going to his Father’s side.

“He was stabbed in the stomach with a poisoned dagger. I closed the wound, but I don’t have the antidote and I couldn’t stop it from spreading.” Ariawyn explained. 

“Could you make it? We could carry him out and buy herbs in the nearest village maybe?” Eleanor asked, holding her husband’s hand.

“I’m afraid he won’t last that long.” Ariawyn answered quietly. There were tears on her eyes. “His lower half has already been paralyzed. Soon, the paralysis will reach his chest, his heart will slow down and his lungs will collapse. I'm sorry.” She said, and a few tears ran down her face. The Templar immediately went to her and took her hand. “I’m sorry we didn’t get there sooner. I’m sorry I can’t do anything for him.” She leaned into Cullen, hiding her face in his neck.

Bryce lifted his hand, and just barely reached Ariawyn’s until it fell. She looked up from Cullen’s neck, and Eleanor lifted Bryce’s hand and placed it in Ariawyn’s. Bryce squeezed just a bit, but that was all that was needed. She understood. He was thanking her, even though she couldn’t save him.

“Can you ease his pain?” Ian asked, his face stern and eyes hard.

Ariawyn sniffled, and answered, “Y-yes. Close your eyes, Teyrn.” Bryce did as she said, and Ariawyn cast a sleeping spell on him, a spell from which he would never wake up. His body went limp and fell in Eleanor’s lap. She cradled him and begun to cry silently.

“Thank you.” Ian said. They heard boots and shouts, where a moment ago all had seemed quiet. “Mother,” Ian urged. “Mother, we need to go!”

Eleanor lifted her head, laid Bryce’s body tenderly on the ground, and stood. “No. I won’t leave your father. Duncan, can you take Ian with you? To Ostagar?”

“Yes, my lady Cousland. But I must tell you, there are greater dangers out there than treacherous men. The Grey Wardens need recruits, my lady.”

Ariawyn could not believe what she was hearing. So desperate was Duncan that he would take Ian to Ostagar on the condition of his becoming a Warden? Was he really so insensitive? The man's father had just died and his mother was about to be left behind so they could escape.

“I understand.” She looked to Ian, and he nodded. “So does my son.” She turned to Ian, and placed one hand on his cheek. “Find Fergus. Tell him what happened. And make us proud, my son.”

“I’ll miss you. I love you Mother.” 

“I love you too, son. Now go. I’ll cover you. I will put an arrow through every bastard that comes through that door.”

“I know you will.” Ian hugged his mother tightly. Grief bubbled up his throat and threatened to overwhelm him, but he pushed it down. There would be time to think and grieve later. Now, he had a mission. He had to get to Ostagar, and give his brother the Shield and Sword, and the grim news that he had failed. He had failed the one thing his brother asked of him: take care of my family. He had failed his brother, his father, and Highever. He felt his mother begin to pull away, and someone begin to pull him in. It took a second to realize it was Duncan, his grip strong and tight on his arm. He looked forward and saw the mage and Templar running into the darkness of the tunnel. He looked back and saw his mother, firing arrow after arrow, each one flying straight and true, until the darkness of the tunnel enveloped him, and the darkness in his heart threatened to consume him.


	8. 7. Of Different Perspectives

They ran and ran as fast as they could. The tunnel seemed endless, with random twists and turns. Ariawyn had summoned two Fade wisps, one to scout ahead and one who was to remain behind them, guarding their tail. Her lungs were burning and her breath came in short gasps, but the need to survive was larger than any physical exhaustion. Cullen had her hand in his, and was practically pulling her farther, and she knew she was slowing him down. She rubbed some of the sweat from her eyes, when she finally saw, through the first wisp, the exit of the tunnel.  _Thank the Maker and his holy Andraste,_  she thought. She wanted to tell the others they were nearly there, but couldn't do so without loosing precious breath, and decided to wait. Finally, she felt the cold sea air hit her face, and instantly felt dizzy. She collapsed on the floor and threw up, water and bile and stomach acids burning her throat, and she felt tears begin to fall from her eyes.  _What am I doing? This is no time to fall apart!_ She thought, furious with herself for being so weak. Suddenly, she felt a hand rubbing her back and tensed.

"Easy, Ari." Cullen's voice was calm and soothing, his touch gentle. "That's it. Easy."

"Is she okay?" Ian asked, in between breaths.

"She's fine." Cullen answered. "Mages don't get much physical activity in the tower, so this was a bit taxing on her body, that's all."

"We don't have much time." Duncan said, his breath coming in short gasps. "Let's take five minutes to recover, but then we  _must_  keep going. We'll need to travel through the night to put some safe distance between us and the castle. No doubt Arl Howe will send men in search of you, Ian."

"Yes, I know. Cullen!" he waited for the Templar to look up and tossed him the water skin from his belt. Cullen nodded his thanks, and gave it to Ariawyn, who rinsed her mouth and spit. She stood and hugged Cullen, crying into his shoulder, while he held her tight and rubbed her back with one gauntleted hand.

Ian felt tears threatening to fall from his eyes, and looked away. They had a emerged on a hill, a good long distance from Castle Cousland, but it was still visible from here. To see his ancestral home on fire, embers flying up and lighting the night sky, broke his heart, and he felt hot, salty tears on his cheek. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to find it was Duncan's. The man pulled him into a tight embrace, and Ian let himself be comforted.  _There is no shame in crying,_  he thought.  _Not when one has lost so much in one night._  After a little while, though, he felt he had grieved enough. He had a duty, a mission, and while he had needed to let some of the grief out, he would not let it consume him. He broke away from Duncan and put a hand on his shoulder, a silent thank you, and the old man nodded, understanding and sadness in his eyes.

Duncan looked at Cullen, and Cullen began whispering in Ariawyn's ear. She lifted her head and wiped her face. "Let's go. We've got a long road ahead." Duncan said and they began walking, after Ariawyn shut the passage exit with a large stone fist.

They walked all through the night, thanks to Ariawyn's rejuvenation spell, which she used whenever fatigue threatened to take them down. They stayed well away from the Imperial Highway, opting for the cover of the trees. As night gave way to dawn, and the first rays of sunshine began to appear, they were fortunate enough to find a small cave. After Duncan ensured the cave was clean, and there weren't any bears or spiders inside, they entered it and Ariawyn placed a barrier to seal its entrance,  _the same barrier I was practicing the night I met Cullen,_ she mused, and then added a couple of glyphs behind it. With the certainty they would finally be safe, they all laid down and slept.

* * *

 

**Ostagar, the King's Encampment, 9:30 Dragon**

Kassina entered her brother's massive tent, to find him inside, reading a piece of parchment with the Orlesian royal seal on it. "Cailan? What are you doing? Loghain has been looking all over for you. We were supposed to be at the strategy meeting half an hour ago."

"Sorry, Kassie, I got distracted by something." He left the paper on a small table next to his bedroll and stood. He began walking out, but Kassie walked to the table and began reading the parchment. It was a letter from Empress Celene of Orlais!

"Cailan! Cailan, what is this?"

Cailan turned and saw his sister with the parchment. "Kassie! Give me that!" He tried to take it, but she snatched it away.

"Cailan, what are you doing?" she lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. "Talking of a possible marriage between you and the Empress? Cailan, what are you thinking?"

"It would be for a political alliance, Kassie! Between us and Orlais. We could benefit from it."

"Oh, ok! But hey, what about Anora? You know, blond, blue eyes, you took her as your wife five years ago?" she asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"That marriage could be annulled I-"

"Cailan, how dare you?! Why would you even think about casting Anora aside? She's a good woman and a good queen, a good ruler."  _You could learn a thing or two from her,_  she thought, but knew better than to say it.

"Yes, yes. I know all the arguments. 'She's a good queen, she's smart, she know politics, she's nice to look at!' But she's also cold, she loves me but never shows it, because she sees it as a sign of weakness or submission. And, to be honest, I don't know if she loves me for me or because I put a crown on her head!" he sighed. "No one even asked me how I felt about her when she was promised to me! Loghain and Father just  _agreed_  we should marry, and since  _King Maric_  ordered it, it had to be done, no questions asked! Besides, it's been five years and there's no heir in sight. That's a good cause for annulment."

"Oh, yes, sure, the heir issue. There are ways to solve it. We could call a healer from the Circle of Magi, and see if she's barren or if the one with the problem is you. People are always quick to blame the woman, but they forget the man can have issues as well. If  _she_ is the one with the problem, then okay, get the marriage annulled and marry another Fereldan lady, one of your choice this time, I'm sure you'll have many to choose from, but  _not Celene._  She'll bring her Grand Game to the court of Ferelden, along with her bards, and intrigues, and schemes, and it will only bring chaos and animosity to Ferelden. Besides, tell me, Cailan, do you really think that Celene will give you heirs? Do you think she'll even lay with you? You  _do_  know she has an elven lover, a  _female_  elven lover? Most likely, she'll poison your wine, and then find some other way to kill me as well, and that way she rules both countries."

"She w-"

"If you think she wouldn't do that, then you're more naïve than I thought." She threw the parchment at him. "You're playing with fire, Cailan, and I'm not going to stick around and watch you get burned." She turned and lifted the flap of the tent, and left.

Once outside, she covered her face with her hands, sighed, and ran them through her hair. She always did that when she was stressed.

"Kassina, did you find your brother? He wasn't in the Wardens' Encampment."

Kassina eyed Loghain warily, looking for signs to see if he had heard anything. It could be very dangerous for her brother if he did, she knew that much. She loved her Uncle Loghain, but knew the war had left scars time could not erase, and traumas that would never go away. "He's inside. He'll be out in a moment." And she began walking to the temple where they had placed the small, makeshift war table, without looking back.

* * *

 

**Ostagar, the Wardens' Encampment, 9:30 Dragon**

_It had been about three weeks since Duncan had left to find more recruits, after dropping off that cutpurse and the knight,_  Alistair pondered as he ate his breakfast. He remembered the look on his face when he had come back, a strange mix of relief and wariness, and when Alistair had prodded him to find out what happened, Duncan confessed to not have been in time to save what could have been a valuable recruit in Denerim. That night, he also confided in Alistair that he had started having nightmares again.  _But better not think about that,_  he thought _, the Archdemon is the reason for all the nightmares, not… the other thing._

"Well, aren't we broody this morning? Stare any harder at that bowl of porridge and it'll dissolve!" Fanya said, sitting down next to him. He smiled at the small mage, and scooched over to give her a bit more room.

"I was just thinking it's been three weeks since Duncan left."

"Oh, well then, sugar, you'll be happy to know he'll be back in about two weeks' time! I just received a raven from him, actually." She handed over the parchment for Alistair to read.

_Fanya,_

_I have stolen this bird and I'm writing quickly to tell you I shall be back in Ostagar in a fortnight. I have found two recruits, Ariawyn, from the Circle, and Ian, from Highever. Had to leave Highever quickly and without being seen. Imperial Highway not safe, so we'll take a longer, but necessary, detour through the Brecilian Forrest._

_Duncan_

"That's odd. What do you think happened in Highever?"

"Beats me." Fanya ruffled his hair. "But hey, don't worry! Duncan will be fine!"

"Yes, thank you, I know."

"Good, now finish your breakfast."

"Good morning!" Alistair heard from the distance, along with choruses of "your majesty" and when he looked up he saw the king was entering the Wardens' camp. He immediately stood and said, "Actually, I think I'll go train for a bit with Gregor."

As he walked away in search for the dwarf, he thought about why the King was always coming to his camp. It was infuriating! He should be in  _his_  camp, with his sister, and generals, and other nobles! But no! He was always here, with the Wardens, eating with them, training with them, drinking with them, and to make matters easier for him, Alistair had found it better to excuse himself whenever the king came. He wondered if the Wardens didn't notice the somewhat obvious resemblance. When he had told Duncan, the man hadn't even been surprised. "You look alike." He had said simply. Alistair refused to believe the King came to see  _him._  He probably didn't even know he had a brother. He had caught his sister, however, looking at him a couple of times. And that sister was walking  _right up to him_.  _Maker, what do I do_? He thought. He decided to just keep looking forward, and when he passed her, greet her with a simple nod and be on his way.  _Yes, that would do. She's probably just going to look for Cailan._

"Warden Alistair?" Kassina called, walking up to stand right in front of him.

"Um, y-yes?"

"I'm Kassina. Kassina Theirin." She offered her hand and looked at him. He shook warily before responding.

"Yes, your Highness, I know." She smiled at him, an insanely warm smile, and was still shaking his hand. He lifted one eyebrow and gave her a dubious look. "Did you need something, Your Highness?"

"Oh, uh, yes!" she let go of his hand rapidly. "I was wondering if you had seen my brother?"

"Yes, he was in our camp when I left."

"Great!" she said, still not leaving. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Warden Alistair. I wish you good fortune in the battles to come. May the Maker be with you." And she walked away.

Alistair stood there, dumbfounded for a couple of minutes.

"Hey, Alistair!"

"Gregor, hey. Can you show me that move from the other day?"

* * *

 

**Brecilian Forrest, Clan Sabrae's Encampment**

"When the children of our people come of age, they earn the right of wearing vallaslin, the blood writing." Marethari began. "It sets us apart from the shemlen, and the elves who have thrown their lot in with them. It reminds us that we will never again surrender our traditions and beliefs."

Lyaera simply nodded.

"Lyaera Mahariel, daughter of Taeran and Lirelle Mahariel, you have now become a hunter of the Sabrae Clan, you have gotten your wolf pelt and gave it in offering to our Creators, you have meditated in the Forrest and have heard them call upon you. Now there is one more thing you must do. Tell me, which of our Creators spoke to you, and called to you the loudest?"

"June, the craft master."

"Very well." Marethari said. "Take a seat, da'len."

Lyaera sat, and looked at Tamlen. He had gotten his vallaslin last year, the whole clan had been present for it, staring at him, watching for any squirming or whimpering from his part. When you received your vallaslin, you had to be completely silent, any noise meant the hunter was not ready, was not mature enough to receive the honor. He smiled and winked, which made her feel a bit better. Though she had schooled her face into a cool and stoic mask, her stomach would not settle, and she was incredibly nervous. She watched as Merrill, the clan's new first after the disappearance of her sister, brought the sacred inks and needles. As Marethari cleansed the needles with wine and fire, she couldn't help but think of how it should have been her sister, her twin, the one who should have been looking down on her right now, the one holding the inks and assisting Marethari. The loss of her sister and her parents was an ever constant thorn in her heart, maybe it was even the reason she and Merrill had never gotten along. She knew it was not Merrill's fault, but she couldn't help but resent her for taking her sister's place in the clan.  _But my sister is dead,_  she thought,  _along with Mamae and Papae._

She felt the needle pierce her forehead, she bit her cheek and commanded herself to sit still. The pain was not extraordinary, she had been hurt worse out on the hunt, but it was still unpleasant nonetheless. Marethari had to stop repeatedly so Merrill could wipe the blood from her forehead and then resumed the tattooing.

Lyaera let her mind wander, thinking of how different this moment would have been if it was her father doing the tattooing, and her sister wiping her forehead. She remembered her parents well, her father the intelligent keeper, and her mother, the graceful hunter. It was her sister she yearned the most for, only because she had been a da'len when she had been taken from them. What would she have been like? Would she have been smart and calm, like Papae? Or would she have been spirited and playful, like Mamae, and like Lyaera herself? Many said she had inherited Taeran's face, but her mother's personality. Would her sister have been like Merrill, always a bit apart from everyone, because of her position as a First? Or would she have tried to integrate herself regardless of her position?  _Yes,_  she decided,  _that was what Ariawyn would have done. She would not have been like Merrill, who excused herself with her studies to isolate herself. No, Ariawyn would have been a diligent student, a diligent First, but she would still would have spent time with us, the hunters. She would have eaten with us, laughed with us, maybe even accompany us on hunts. Merrill set herself apart, because she knows, deep down, that she doesn't belong here._

"It is done, Lyaera."

Merrill wiped away the last of the blood and handed her a mirror. She looked at herself, and her reflection took her breath away. June's vallaslin were two twin branches that began on her temples and intertwined on her forehead, with twin lines that ran from the corners of her mouth down to her chin. Marethari had chosen a deep blue ink, that matched her eyes.

"Stand, lethallan." Marethari said, and she obeyed. The Keeper moved to hug her, whispering in her ear how proud she was, and then Ashalle, and Tamlen, and Haren Paivel, and Master Illen! Her whole clan was accepting her as their new hunter, and she could positively say there was no greater feeling.


	9. 8. Corrupted

A deep sigh escaped out of her throat unbidden, a sign of comfort and satisfaction, as she cuddled closer to her mate.  _Her mate!_ She thought, still unable to wrap her head around the idea that this wonderful, perfect man had chosen her, wanted her and only her, had bonded with her in body and soul…  _It's too good to be true._

"What's on your mind, emma'lath?" Tamlen asked, bringing his hand to smooth her hair.

Lyaera swung her leg over his naked torso. "Just thinking… is this what you had in mind when you asked me out here?" She was supposed to help Master Ilen today, but Tamlen had asked her to hunt, and… here she was, here  _they_  were, laying on the soft grass after making love under the trees.

"Of course. You know I can never get enough of you, vhenan." He laughed. "But in all seriousness, the other reason I wanted to lure you away from a day of polishing ironwood is because I was thinking that now that you are officially no longer a da'len… we should speak to the Keeper… make it official." He lifted his hand, reaching for his pack and from one of the side pockets, he pulled a small silver ring… a Dalish Promise Ring.

Lyaera sat straight up, her eyes widening in shock. "Oh, Tamlen… it's… I…" she stuttered, unable to find words that could properly convey what she was feeling.

Even though they had given themselves to each other months ago, in the eyes of their clan, they were only close childhood friends. They had kept their affair a secret, since they were unable to undergo an official bonding as Lyaera had not yet received her vallaslin. But now… Now Tamlen was sitting next to her, blue eyes wide with hope and love as he slowly took her hand and placed the ring on her finger.  _It fits perfectly!_  Lyaera thought, as she looked at her hand.  _He must have crafted it himself, working on it for June knows how many moons._

As she could not trust her words at the moment, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her, she resigned herself to let her action speak for her. She jumped into his arm, enveloping him in a kiss that conveyed everything she was unable to say.

"Yes! A thousand times, yes!"

"Ar lath ma, Lyaera."

* * *

 

They were about a mile outside their camp when Lyaera's ears perked up. She tugged on Tamlen's hand. He had been practically dragging her all they way back to camp, eager to share the news of their supposed "impending" bonding with the rest of their clan. She tugged on his hand once more, harder this time, and he finally turned to look at her.

She had  _that_ look on her face, Tamlen noted. The look she usually had when they were out hunting, a wild look, feral as she became one with the forest, a predator cunningly stalking its prey.  _Stop_ , her blue eyes seemed to say.  _Stop and listen. Listen to the trees, listen to the wind._  He did just so.  _Boots, three pairs. Clumsy, heavy steps… Shemlen._

Lyaera nodded ever slightly and in a matter of seconds, they had both drawn their bows with graceful speed and knocked arrows in them, just as three shemlen stumbled from behind the bushes, one landing on his belly before their feet.

"You've wandered too close to our camp, shemlen."

"Please!" the fat one begged as he got up slowly, never taking his eyes off their bows. "We didn't know this forest was yours! We're just trying to get away from the monsters in the cave!"

Lyaera rolled her eyes, shemlen could be so stupid sometimes…  _Wait… cave?_

"The forest is not  _ours_ , shem." Tamlen said, disdain and impatience resonating in his voice.

"And there are no caves around this part of the forest. You lie, shem!"

"N-no, really! It's off to the west! There's a cave in the rock face, and a huge hole just inside! L-look, we have proof!" one of them said, hastily handing Tamlen a large stone, written elvish carved onto it. "The place we found that… it had ruins like we've never seen before! T-that's why we went in… to explore… we thought there might be –"

"Treasure?" Tamlen said, handing the stone to Lyaera. "So you're more akin to thieves than actual bandits."

"Tamlen, wait. Did you  _see_  this? Did you even look at it? It's elvish,  _written_  elvish."

"There was more in the ruins!" one shem piped up. "We didn't get very far in though…"

"There were these huge monsters inside! Hollow dead eyes, gray decaying skin! They had weapons too! Some were small, like dwarves, and others that were taller than most men! Demons, I tell you! Demons!" the fat shem sobbed.

_Hollow eyes? Gray skin? That sounded more like…_ "Darkspawn." Lyaera whispered.

"What?"

"Remember the stories Hahren Paivel used to tell us? About the Blight and the Elvhen Hero Garahel? What he describes… It sounds more like darkspawn rather than demons."

"Yes…" Tamlen considered. "You might be right, vhenan. Well, what shall we do about them?"

Tamlen looked at Lyaera, saw the feral gleam come alight in her blue eyes as a wicked grin adorned her face. She looked at him, and batted her eyelashes once, as she said in a deceptively sweet tone, "What we always do, of course."

He heard the twang of her bow and the whoosh of her arrow as it broke through the air, and one of the shemlen screamed as the arrow pierced his chest, right through his heart. She had shot the shem without even looking at him. Creators how he loved her!

He returned her predatory smile, before letting his arrow loose and killing another one, while the third one ran. "You can have this one, vhenan. I know how much you love hunting."

"Aw, so sweet." She laughed, baring her teeth, while angling her bow at the sky at just the right angle, and releasing the arrow. Tamlen followed the trajectory of the missile, and watched as the arrow drew a perfect arch on the sky before coming down to land right on the shem's head, piercing his skull.

"Nice shot!" Tamlen said, taking Lyaera in his arms. "You've been practicing!" He nodded his approval.

"Of course!" Lyaera said, kissing him as the adrenaline in her blood slowly ebbed and dissipated. She was always a little on edge after a hunt, but Tamlen's kisses were soothing enough.

"Well, shall we keep walking?"

"I…" Tamlen hesitated, "Don't you want to go check out these ruins?"

"No… Tamlen, you heard the shem." Lyaera pointed to the corpse of the nearest one, the fat one she had shot first. "There could be darkspawn. I think we should go back to camp and tell Keeper Marethari. If she decides it's worth investigating, we can come back with more hunters, in a larger group."

"Lyaera! If we come back with only a  _tablet_ , of course she's going to decide it's not worth it… Look, I'm not proposing we go  _all_  the way inside, just to have a look around to see if we can scavenge a few more things to bring to the Keeper! Trust me, vhenan'ara! Nothing will happen to you while I'm here!"

Lyaera didn't like this. There was a nagging feeling in her back of her mind, unease settling in the pit of her stomach. But Tamlen was already taking her hand and leading her in the direction the shem had told her. He looked so hopeful, too… Like all the rest of her people, the Dalish were always willing to go through great lengths in order to even have a chance at recovering some of their lost history. They were the real elves, keepers of the lost lore, and this… this was a piece of lore they could gain back… With that in mind, she shoved down her uneasiness violently and followed Tamlen, until they were both standing outside a massive cave.

"Look at that…The pigs were actually telling the truth!" Tamlen marveled, staring wide eyed at the entrance of the cave.

"Yeah… So come on, let's go in, gather some stuff, and get out. Quickly."

"Agreed."

They went inside, Tamlen holding out his hand in order to help her descend the deep slope that led into the ruins. Once inside, the two hunters raised their bows and knocked arrows ever weary, ever ready.

The ruins were cold and dark, with cobwebs decorating the walls and ceiling. The infrastructure was clearly old, as some of the walls had fallen and in some parts the roof had collapsed, while in others, the roots of strong trees had broken through the tiles on the floor.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Lyaera asked.

"Yes… there ruins… look more human than elven."

They kept walking, until both their ears flicked as they heard soft hissing and small raps behind them.

_Tip, tap, tip, tap._

Lyaera looked at Tamlen, eyes narrowed, her mind having difficulty placing the sound. Tamlen shook his head, until he heard a squeal behind him, and turned just in time to stab a giant spider before it could tackle him. He heard the sound of cool steel cutting through the air, and knew Lyaera had drawn her daggers from their sheaths at her waist.

Lyaera blurred from his vision, coming up to sneak behind the giant arachnid and stab its back. Pus and goo oozed from the wound as she pulled the daggers free, and the spider shrieked and fell back, raising its legs until finally staying still.

"Ugh!" she exclaimed, wiping her daggers clean, trying not to gag. "I hate spiders."

Tamlen laughed. "You have killed wolves, bears and shemlen, but you're afraid of spiders?"

"I am not afraid of them, I am disgusted by them." At his teasing smile she just rolled her eyes and sniffed, indignant. "Shut up. Let's just go."

A few paces onward, they came upon a large, life size statue. It depicted a beautiful elvhen man carved into the stone, with a handsome face, large eyes, and a fine nose, wearing long robes, with its hands extended and palms facing the ceiling. There was what seemed to be a headdress on his head, and large bronze wings protruding from his back.  _Falon'Din._

"Is that…?"

"Uh huh." Lyaera nodded. "But why would he be here? In a human temple?"

"Maybe… this isn't a temple, from the times of Ancient Arlathan… maybe it's from right after the shemlen invasion."

"What do you mean?"

"After the shems drove us from our homeland, they could have built this to house their slaves… Perhaps those slaves carved this so Falon'Din could guide all those who had died through the Beyond…"

"Hmm…"  _It could be…_  Lyaera thought, but there was still something that did not make sense to her.

"Let's keep going." Tamlen walked past her, and with one last look at Falon'Din, Lyaera bowed her head before the Creator, and followed.

They continued walking, each time going farther and deeper into the ruins, through its maze like corridors and arched doorways. Tamlen opened a door, and right before him on the floor, Lyaera noticed a small tile that was slightly raised.  _Pressure plate._

"Tamlen, look ou–" her warning was drowned out by the blazing sound of a fire ball headed straight at him, and Lyaera was barely able to sidestep and avoid it. "Tamlen?" No answer. "Tamlen?!" she shrieked.

"Here." She heard a course whisper, and a succession of rough coughing from a few paces behind her on the floor. Lyaera ran to his side, inspecting the burns on his arms and neck, blisters already forming on white skin.

"Oh Tamlen! Damn it! We should go back! You have to get these seen to!"

"Lethallan, I'm fine!" He coughed. "It's nothing, really. The Keeper will be able to fix me up when we get back to camp. Let's keep going!" He said excitedly.

Lyaera stared at him increduously for a moment. "Keep going? Keep going?! Have you lost your mind?"

"Emma'lath, we're onto something, I can feel it! Think about it! Whatever is past that corridor must be something big, something important enough to place traps before it in order to keep it safe!"

"I don't care! If we get back to camp, the Keeper can heal you and then we can come back with a few hunters and Merrill! Let  _her_  get burned to death if she wishes, I don't care! Our past… our  _heritage_ … it's not as important to me as you are…" His face softened at that, and he brought his palm to caress her cheek. "Please, let us go back."

"Vhenan… I know you're uneasy. I feel it too. I have this sensation… like we have disturbed something, like we've just walked right into the dragon's lair. But, remember your oath?" He traced the pattern of her vallaslin with his finger. "We are the keepers of lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. A Dalish hunter fears nothing, and you are one of the best hunters of our clan, as am I."

Lyaera took his hand and kissed his palm. She sighed, before finally relenting. "Fine. Can you stand?" She asked, standing and offering her hand.

"Yes." He took it and stood slowly, and Lyaera pressed a small vile of elfroot poultice into his hand, the merry red liquid swishing inside. He uncorked the vile and poured a few drops on the palm of his hand and began massaging it onto his burnt skin. Tamlen hissed from the sharp pain, but in a matter of seconds could feel the pain numbing.  _That should be enough until we get to camp._

"Drink the rest of it." Lyaera commanded.

"It's a poultice!"

"Just trust me." She smirked. "It tastes awful, but I swear it'll put you right back on your feet."

He eyed the vial wearily for a minute, before tossing his head back and swallowing what was left of the bitter red liquid. Its effect was instantaneous. He felt no pain, only energy.

"See? This time, stay behind me." Lyaera said as she sauntered past him.

They continued on, Lyaera stopping several times to disarm the ancient traps, and she couldn't help but wonder how they had been able to remain functional as the ages passed. The maze – like corridors led them to what seemed to be a central chamber, but they couldn't be sure, as the door was closed. Lyaera wondered if it was locked as she walked toward it, her hand unconsciously moving to her belt where she kept her lock picks. A small shift of her weight drew her attention to the floor, however, and it was then she realized she had failed to notice a small round pressure plate. Green poisonous gas began emerging from the ground and the walls, though she could not pin point exactly where it was coming from. She closed her mouth and held her breath, but it was too late, as her throat was already burning and her eyes were watering.

Lyaera turned to find Tamlen, to warn him, but instead of finding him at her back, she was startled to find a corpse – no, a mere skeleton – with a sword in hand, already swinging it in a wide arc towards her. She was able to cross her daggers in front of her just in time to block the attack, catching the ancient, rust covered sword with them. Her mind worked quickly, trying to calculate where to strike, where to hit, and for a moment she wanted to panic. This skeleton had nothing, no critical points, no vital organs, no where she could strike hard and fast and leave it to die on its own, to bleed out. She would have to shatter it. She lifted her arms, the skeleton's sword still caught between her daggers, and kicked the skeleton right in its ribs. Many of them shattered on impact as the creature stumbled back, and she took the opening to bring one of her daggers into a small arch that cut through the corpse's neck, effectively decapitating him. The skeleton collapsed immediately into a pile of dust and bones at her feet.

Lyaera then turned to look for Tamlen, half expecting him to have collapsed due to the gas, but found him fighting three skeletons at once, parrying their blows with his sword and shield. She sucked in a deep breath through her teeth, even though her throat burned as she did so, and slipped into the shadows behind the skeletons. Tamlen saw her and bashed his shield into one of them, pushing it closer to her, and she hit it right between its ribs and pelvis, severing his lower half. Like the first one, the skeleton collapsed and Lyaera crushed its skull under her boot.

While she moved on to the other, Tamlen brought his sword up and hit one skeleton right on its skull with the pommel of his sword, before putting his shield horizontally in the air and moving it to shatter its neck and collarbones with a smooth economy of motion. As he turned, the final skeleton was crumbling at Lyaera's feet and the gas was finally beginning to dissipate.

They took a moment to catch their breaths, rooted to where they were standing. The lack of fresh air had made what would have been an easy fight into a difficult one, and he realized that was the point of the gas. Not to kill, but to  _weaken._  As his head began to clear, and the burning in his throat begin to lessen, Tamlen took a step toward Lyaera and reached down to take her hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

She only nodded, pointing to her throat. She had been right in the middle of the thick cloud of verdant gas, whereas he hadn't, so her throat must be burning more than his was. Lyaera pointed to the door as one of the corners of her mouth quirked up in a half smile.  _We came this far,_ her eyes seemed to say, so he nodded and led her to the door, still not letting go of her hand. They were both surprised to find it unlocked. Tamlen opened it and they stepped inside together.

Lyaera's jaw dropped as she took in the massive chamber. Beams of light trickled inside from various holes in the roof, and several roots and vines scaled the walls, but what drew her attention the most was the circular dais and the strange mirror in the center of it, flanked by two statues of elven warriors, standing tall and proud, both holding swords in their hands.  _Was it a mirror?_ She couldn't say for sure, because as they got closer to it, instead of seeing their reflections in the looking glass, it seemed to hum with energy, and ripples appeared on its surface just as if it were water.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? I wonder what the writing says."

_Writing? What writing?_  Lyaera thought, as she brought her gaze down from the warriors and to the pillars, and realized they were covered with ancient carvings.  _Ancient elven_ , she thought with glee, imagining the Keeper's face when she saw these.

"I wager the Keeper could translate it. Let's go get the others." She suggested and immediately turned to go.

"Wait!" Tamlen took her hand. "Did you see that? I think something just moved  _inside_  the mirror."

"What? That's impossible. Let me see." But as she took one step closer to it, the ripples began to grow, the humming began to intensify, and a deep sense of danger filled her.  _We should leave,_  she thought,  _we should leave now!_

"Tamlen…" she said, taking a step back without removing her gaze from the rippling mirror. "We should go!" she took his hand and began pulling him back, but he resisted.

"Hold on, I want to see what's inside." She kept pulling, and he yanked his hand from her. "Lyaera, hold on! I need to take a closer look! I think… I think it knows we're here."

He walked up the steps to stand directly in front of it, looking attentively inside it. Lyaera watched him helplessly, growing more and more afraid as seconds passed.

"Tamlen, please…" she pleaded, "Get away from it! Get down!"

"Shh!" he quieted her harshly. "Lyaera, stop! I think… I see something. A city… underground?"

Lyaera watched, horrified, as he brought his hand and pressed his palm against the surface of the mirror.

"It's showing me places! An underground city! And… and a great blackness!" Lyaera didn't fail to notice the touch of hysteria that crept into his tone. "It saw me! Lyaera, help! I-I can't look away!"

Lyaera began to climb the small stairs up to the mirror, but it was already reacting to Tamlen touch, small currents of electricity coursing through it. Just as she reached Tamlen, an intense, bright light emerged from the mirror, with a force so great it threw her flying back, with the last thing she heard before passing out was Tamlen screaming her name.

* * *

 

It had been two weeks since Highever's fall, since he had to watch his father die and his mother sacrifice herself for him. Two weeks of waking up to the same awful nightmares, the same death-filled images tormenting him every night.  _Iona receiving a bolt through her tender breast, a breast he had cupped and kissed and held only hours before. Oren laying on the floor with blood pouring from the gash on his neck. Orana reaching to touch her son, her fingers almost grasping his before her breath had given away. Father vomiting blood, unable to stand, then reaching to comfort the small elven healer before closing his eyes forever. Mother cradling his head before standing tall to stall their enemies, arrows flying from her bow before being overwhelmed._

_Enough!_  He screamed internally,  _enough, enough!_ Ian wanted so badly to collapse, or to scream, to beat Howe within an inch of his life with his bare hands! But he didn't. So he took a deep breath and kept walking. Rhaella whined beside him and licked his fingers in a comforting gesture.

"I'm okay, girl." Ian whispered. "I'm okay."

_Two weeks._  Two weeks of mind numbing silence between the small group, as none of them had really wanted to talk much about what happened, none of them really wanted to  _believe_ it had actually happened.

"All right, let's stop here." Duncan said, gesturing to the mouth of a small cave. "We'll eat and rest for a couple of hours before continuing. That way we let the sun descend a bit and avoid most of the midday heat."

Ariawyn nodded, moving to sit on a large tree trunk that had fallen and was now covered in moss. She wanted to take off her boots so badly, but was still a little hesitant about walking barefoot on the grass and dirt. "Duncan?"

"Hmm?"

"How much longer?" she asked sheepishly, knowing she probably sounded like a child, but couldn't help it. She was so tired.

"About a week's time, at the pace we're going. Don't worry, Ariawyn. We'll get to Ostagar soon enough."

Ian watched the small elf, noticing the dark shadows under her eyes, the haunted look in her eyes. She had been having nightmares too. He had heard her, more than once, as she thrashed in her sleep before waking up screaming and crying, until Cullen held her tightly and shushed her back to sleep. That night….  _"It was the first time she killed a man," Cullen had told him. "In pure self defense, of course, but she just… summoned lightning and electrocuted him to death."_  It was the first time she had seen death, the first time she had caused it.

_Of course she would have nightmares._   _She has lived in a gilded cage all her life, and they probably never even thought to prepare her for all she would have to face in the real world._   _But she had someone,_  Ian thought bitterly as he watched Cullen hand her his water skin and a strip of dried meat.  _I am alone._

Rhaella, as if sensing his thoughts, whined loudly in complaint and licked his hand.

"Okay, I'm sorry!" Ian laughed, a small weak sound, but it was laughter nonetheless. "You're right. We have each other, and that's all we need." He said, resting his forehead against the mabari's.

A large crash and blood curdling scream interrupted his thoughts, and all of them stood and drew their weapons. The sound had apparently come from inside the cave, and they all turned to look at Duncan.

"I'll go in first, in case there's darkspawn. Then Cullen, Ariawyn, and Ian you will bring up the rear." All of them nodded, before the Commander continued, "I must warn you, do not let darkspawn blood come into contact with your eyes or mouth. You will get infected if it does." He looked directly at Cullen, though he had to admit a small part of him wished the young templar would be infected and he would be forced to join the order. Cullen was a skilled fighter, with a remarkable strength of character, and a strong sense of duty. He would excel as a Warden, but Duncan dared not conscript him, as he had angered the Grand Cleric enough when he had conscripted Alistair, and the Grey Wardens could not afford to antagonize such a powerful institution as was the Chantry.

They walked inside the cave, making their way down the steep landslide with cautious steps. It appeared they were in a temple of some sort, buried underground long ago. Duncan signaled, and they pressed forward, making their way through the dimly lit hallways, passing corpses of dead spiders and disarmed traps. Duncan began feeling the small tingle in the back of his neck and he familiar prickling in his blood the deeper they went into the temple.  _Darkspawn._

He turned and mouthed the word to his recruits, satisfied when they all nodded and braced themselves for the upcoming fight. Duncan led them further inside, following the whispers in the back of his mind, until he reached a chamber filled with darkspawn surrounding an unconscious elf. They felt his presence and immediately looked up and attacked.

Ian and Cullen met the small group head on, while Duncan slipped into the shadows and snuck up on the beasts from behind, delivering deadly strikes. Ariawyn remained at the door, shooting bolts of lighting and fireballs to any of the horrendous beasts that dared get too close or that thought about sneaking up on any of the warriors, until finally, none of the beasts remained.

Cullen removed his helm and swiped the sweat on his forehead, his eyes searching for Ariawyn. He looked to the door, and had a small moment of panic when he did not see her there.  _She was just at the door! Had the darkspawn gotten her?_ He turned, looking around desperately and found her crouching down next to the elf, Duncan next to her.

Duncan could feel the corruption spreading through the elven girl's blood, and reached for his dagger.  _Better a quick death now than a lifetime of servitude to the darkspawn._

"Duncan… is she tainted?" Ariawyn asked, kneeling beside him, as the others walked closer to them. The healer could feel  _something_ , a poison of some kind, something she couldn't heal.  _Again._

"Is that…?" Cullen asked, as he got a closer look at the elf, staring at her strange armor and tattoos covering her face.

"A Dalish…" Ian confirmed.

"Yes… she looks Dalish." Duncan looked at Ariawyn and brought his dagger into her line of sight. "And yes… she is tainted." He moved to strike, but Ariawyn gripped his arm.

"Don't!"

"Ariawyn… you know the taint is a death sentence."

Ariawyn looked down at the elf, and for the life of her, she couldn't decipher what it was about her, but she  _knew_ she couldn't let Duncan kill her. "I know. But… but…"  _I don't want to see more death._

She was interrupted when the young elf began to stir, opening her bleary eyes and looking around disoriented, until she fixed her gaze on Ariawyn's face. "M-mamae?" she whispered weakly.

"Yes, hello? Can you hear me?" Ariawyn asked while summoning her magic and running it through the elf.  _Concussed, bruised rib, fever, taint._ "We're going to get you out of here. You'll be okay."

"Ariawyn…" Duncan's voice brought the elf's gaze to his face, and he could see the pain in her eyes. "I'm so sorry." He sighed as the elf mumbled "Mamae" once more and closed her eyes again.

"Shit!" Ariawyn yelled, working more magic into the elf, mending her rib and currently trying to break the fever, no doubt a reaction to the taint.

"Ariawyn, you know there is no cure for the Taint." Duncan tried again, softly. He knew this must be hard on the gentle girl, a young healer who was not accustomed to loosing a patient, but she had to let go. _She could not heal this._

"Except to become a Grey Warden." Ian said.

Ariawyn's ears perked up, her eyes growing hopeful, and Duncan sighed. "The Grey Wardens do not recruit out of pity."

"Is that not what you did for me?" Ian rebutted. "I would have died at Highever, if you hadn't recruited me."

"And me…" Ariawyn whispered, and Cullen placed a hand on her shoulder. "I… helped a blood mage escape the tower. I could have been executed, or sent to Aeonar… but you conscripted me."

"I recruited the both of you because you are both skilled and cunning. You, Ariawyn, are a very powerful mage, despite your young age. And you, Ian, are a very skilled warrior. I may have saved your lives by recruiting you, but it was not what caused it."

"The Dalish often hunt to survive." It was the first time Cullen had spoken, and all heads turned to look at him. "I overheard some of the stories Finn used to tell you." He explained sheepishly to Ariawyn, who smiled and nodded. "Look at the daggers hanging from her belt… And she probably knows how to use a bow… Are those not assets sought after by the Grey Wardens?" He looked at Duncan with genuine curiosity coloring his amber eyes.

"We could at least try to take her back to her clan. Speak to them, explain what has happened, and if you deem her skilled enough, recruit her." Ian added.

Duncan looked back to the small elf, and sighed. "Very well."

* * *

 

They made their way deeper and deeper into the forest, following Duncan as he carried the elven girl in his arms, while searching for sighs of the Dalish. They did not need to search too long, however, for they turned a corner and three Dalish hunters materialized before them, arrows knocked into bows and already aimed at them.

"You shall come no closer, shem."

"We mean no harm. We are Grey Wardens, who have only come to deliver this woman and speak to your Keeper."

"Lyaera?" asked a hunter, all of them just taking notice of the elf in Duncan's arms. "What did you do to her, shem?"

"We've done nothing." Ariawyn stepped up from behind Duncan. Even though she was afraid the hunters could release their arrows at any moment, it had occurred to her that perhaps they would be willing to believe another elf. "We found her in a cave to the west of this camp, terribly ill. Which is why we would like an audience with your Keeper."

The three elves eyes her warily, but as they looked at Lyaera, they relented. "Very well. Follow me."

Ariawyn sighed in relief and smiled at the other hunters, as she followed the first one into camp. She couldn't help but look around, marveling at the aravels, the sculptures of their gods, and the halla. The beautiful, majestic animals took her breath away, and she was so enraptured with them, she did not hear the conversation before until Cullen nudged her just a bit.

"Lay her down here, shem. Feynriel, go find the Keeper and Merrill. Pol, go get some poultice from Master Ilen."

Ariawyn knelt down next to the cot they had placed Lyaera, and began channeling more healing magic into the girl. She closed her eyes in concentration as she summoned a bit of ice magic to intertwine with the healing magic, the ice cooling off the girl's skin as her healing magic bid her blood vessels to dialate and her pores to open, releasing heat from her body. She was close to breaking the fever when she heard her name.

"Ariawyn."

"Ssh." She refused to open her eyes, and ignored the hand on her shoulder.

_So close…_ Seconds passed, minutes, hours, she did not know.  _There!_  She opened her eyes slowly, once she was sure the elf's body temperatue was normal once more. And as she looked up, she saw herself surrounded by Dalish. She stood quickly and moved to stand next to Duncan.

An elderly elf stared intently at her, searching her face for something, until Ariawyn could feel her cheeks coloring and figeted uncomfortably. That small tinge of movement seemed to wake the woman from her daze and she finally spoke.

"I am Keeper Marethari of the Sabrae Clan. Tell me, what happened to Lyaera?"

"My name is Duncan, Commander of the Fereldan Grey Wardens." He bowed the Warden bow and the Keeper nodded. "We found her in a cave off to the west of the forest. She was laying unconcious surrounded by darkspawn."

The Keeper looked back to her hunters. "Leave us. I will speak with them alone." With that simple command, all the elves left, save for one with short raven hair and wide green eyes. "Even you, Merrill." And the girl, Merrill bowed sheepishly and left.

"Now tell me, Duncan of the Grey Wardens… Is she tainted?"

"Yes."

"But there is a cure!" Ariawyn piped up, unable to keep quiet any longer. "She could become a Warden! They are immune to the Taint!"

"They?" the Keeper eyed Duncan. "Are you not one of them?"

"She is a recruit." Duncan answered.

"She is a mage." Marethari noted. A  _mage_  who had Lirelle's face, who looked to be Lyaera's age…  _Could it be?_  She thought. "What is your name, girl?"

"A-ariawyn… um, Surana."

The air seemed to still, there was a crack in the planet, and Marethari continued to stare at the mage with Lirelle's face.  _This is impossible._  A hysterical laugh threatened to bubble up from her throat at the absurdity of time and circumstance, but Marethari squashed it down as she looked at Lyaera. She would have to deal with this later.

"You've broken her fever?"

"Yes. I-I tried to, anyway. With the taint in her system, it will probably spike up again soon." She looked to Duncan, who nodded in confirmation.

"You have my thanks, da'len. Thank you all for bringing her back to us, as well."

"Keeper Maretheri, a word alone?"

"Of course, Warden Commander."

"We'll be waiting at the entrance of their camp, where we met the hunters." Ian said, and Duncan nodded.

Once alone, Duncan began, "As my recruit mentioned, there is no cure for the taint, save to become a Grey Warden." He paused as the Keeper nodded. "If she does not undergo the Joining, she will not die… She will change."

"How?"

"She will become a tainted twisted being, a ghoul, who lives only to serve the darkspawn. Which is why if she does not join the order, a knife to the heart is your only choice."

"You wish to recruit her, then? If it will save her life, you have my blessing."

"Can she hunt? Fight? Have any martial or tactical training?"

The Keeper raised one eyebrow, almost indignantly. "Lyaera is one of our best hunters, rivaled only by her clanmate… Tamlen…" The Keeper's eyes suddenly widened as she realized Tamlen was not here in camp, that he had snuck out with Lyaera at dawn.

"Duncan, did you find only her? Was there anyone with her?"

"No, she was alone, surrounded only by darkspawn. Is something wrong?"

"She should have been with her clanmate. If he was not with her… Tamlen is missing."

* * *

 

As they made their way back to the entrance of the Dalish camp, they could  _feel_  the eyes on their backs. Small children pointed and mothers hushed them quickly, while elders and hunters stared or frowned at them. Ian and Cullen kept their head down and shoulders hunched, so as to not draw attention to themselves, but Ariawyn couldn't. She stared at everything, everyone, with wide eyes and a tiny smile on her face. She watched unfazed as the Dalish went along with their day, marveling at their way of life.

As they reached the hunters at the end of their camp, they saw they were arguing with a small Dalish woman, who was crying almost hysterically.

"Well, did the Keeper say anything? Will she be allright?"

"I don't know. She asked to speak to the Wardens alone."

"There they are. Ask them."

The old woman turned, and her bloodshot blue eyes immediately focused on Ariawyn.

"Lirelle?"  _But no, not Lirelle. She is younger, dressed as mage from those shemlen circle. But she is a mage, like Taeran._ "Ariawyn?"

"Um… yes. Did you wish to know about the young elven girl we brought back? Are you her mother?"

Ashalle burst into tears at the girl's confirmation and wrapped her arms around the young elf, who awkwardly returned it.

"Ariawyn! It is you! You came back! You came back, da'len! We thought you were dead, lost to us forever after we found your father! But here you are!" she sobbed into Ariawyn's neck.

_Dead? Lost? Father?_  None of this made sense to Ariawyn!  _You came back?_ No, it could not be…. She had always assumed she was from an alienage or a farm or an orphan, not… not Dalish. No, this woman had to be mistaken. Ariawyn gently removed the woman's arms from her neck and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, you must be mistaken."

"No, you are Ariawyn Mahariel, daughter of Taeran and Lirelle Mahariel." Ashalle moved to tuck a small strand that had fallen out of Ariawyn's braid behind her poited ear. "Oh, you look just like your mother."

"I - I'm sorry." Ariawyn answered, already very confused and disconcerted by what this woman was saying. "I am from the Circle of Magi. You must be mistaken."


	10. 9. Of Losses and Reunions

_Pain._

All Lyaera felt was white hot pain, searing her skin and boiling her blood. She was having an incredible difficulty breathing, the air seeming to evaporate just as it reached her lungs, and she knew she was wheezing. She was conscious, as well. Or she thought she was. She could hear people talking, whispers inside her head calling her to feed, to hunt, to  _serve_.

_Serve the Dark One, who has finally woken. Hunt. Maim. Kill._

_A huge dragon appeared in front of her, eyes of a deep crimson, black and violet scales covering its body and hide, roaring as it takes to the skies before coming down to rain chaos and destruction._

Lyaera whimpered, she knew she had, and tried to move, to stir, to  _wake._ She knew she was dreaming, she had to be.

Different voices pulled her from her nightmare. They mumbled at first, and she tried to understand what they were saying. They were arguing, that much was clear from their tones.

"…but she looks just like her! We should be trying to get her back. We should –"

"We should be taking care of Lyaera! We should see to it that she wakes, and survives long enough to go with the Warden. We should be searching for Tamlen! It is not the time to be chasing ghosts!"

In the blurry haze of pain and fever, she really did not understand what the voices were talking about. She only understood one word: Tamlen. She tried to speak, but could not find her voice. She tried to raise her arms, get their attention, but could not do so. And then, faces appeared before her, and she tried to place them through the haze.

_Keeper Marethari._ Her eyes flickered to the second face.  _Ashalle._  Their lips were moving.  _They are speaking._

"Lyaera, can you hear me? Are you in pain? Answer me, da'len."

Lyaera's eyelids drooped once, then twice.  _Yes,_  she wanted to say,  _I can hear you. Yes. It hurts._

It was her last thought before she succumbed to the darkness once again.

* * *

_There is absolutely no way I could be Dalish,_  Ariawyn thought as she stared at the campfire, a strong cup of tea in her hands. The moon illuminated the night sky, and sounds of the forest merged with the sounds of Ian and Duncan's light snoring, and Rhaella's growling in her sleep.

The Commander was sleeping fitfully once more, tossing and turning in his bedroll. Ariawyn's fingers itched to cast the sleeping spell on the poor man, but she held back.  _For safety reasons. I'll understand more after taking the Joining,_  she echoed the words Duncan had said to her that night in Highever.

A hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind her pointed ear drew her from her thoughts, and she turned to face Cullen with a small smile on her face.

"You are very quiet." He noted, his thumb caressing her cheek before pulling away. "What's on your mind?"

"The Dalish woman."

"Hmm." Cullen simply nodded and looked at her with sympathetic eyes, encouraging her to continue.

"I just… Do you suppose she could be right? I… No, it's silly. There's no way I could be Dalish, right? I must be from an alienage or somewhere like that, right?"

"You really don't remember?"

"No…"

Cullen pulled her closer to him, and she swung her legs over his to sit on his lap. He had taken off his armor already, so she settled her head against his chest, right over his heart, and counted its beats. The sound was soothing to her, and she closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax.

"Ariawyn…"

"Hmm?"

"I love you. You know that, right?"

"And I you."

"But you  _do_ know it, right?"

"I… yes." She hesitated.

"I love you because of who you are, for the person you have always been. Wait... that didn't come out right, did it?" He blushed, trying to find the right words to explain what he was feeling and the point he was trying to make. "I remember the first time I saw you…"

"That night in the library?"

"No, actually. That was the first time you saw  _me_. The first time I saw you… well, I must have been at the tower no less than a week. Greagoir had already given me a list with the names of all my charges – all five of them – and I was walking around the tower on my rounds, hoping to catch a glimpse of them, trying to put faces to the names on the parchment." He paused, his lips curling up into a small crooked smile. "I had nearly met them all when the Knight Commander found me.

'Ser Cullen!" he yelled, 'Have you met all your charges?' I told him no, that I still had not seen you. 'Come.' He said, and I followed him up the stairs, while he informed me that you were the First Enchanter's apprentice and would likely be in his office at that time.

'You must watch her carefully, for you are about to meet the most dangerous mage in the entire tower. She came into her magic when she was three, and now, at only 16 years old, she can already cast blizzards and tempests. If she did not have such a calm demeanor and if she was not tutored by Irving himself, I would have made her Tranquil already. She is _officially_  your charge, but all the templars know to be wary of her. A mage that powerful… only the Maker knows how much attention she must attract from the other side.'

So I tried to mentally prepare myself, to muster the courage to meet this fearsome creature who could kill us all with nothing more than her will and the power of her mind... And then we walked into the First Enchanter's office and there you were… a small, skinny wisp of a thing, with your long hair trailing down your back and hands raised in the air, moving intricately while soft snow fell from the sky. And then you turned only for a second, as if to see who had come through the door, and you  _smiled_  at me, before returning to your spell. Such a warm smile, and I remember thinking that such a small thing could not possibly be dangerous, that the Maker could not create such a thing for the purpose of destruction."

"That was you? I remember that day… Irving was trying to teach me how to control the blizzard by increasing and decreasing its intensity with my willpower. When you showed up, I had finally gotten it to calm down to a pleasant snowfall." Ariawyn smiled at the memory, but she still did not understand what it was Cullen was trying to tell her.

"Anyway, what I'm trying to tell you is that you are still the person you were back then. You are Ariawyn Surana, talented Enchanter from Kinloch Hold and Grey Warden recruit, and you will continue to be Ariawyn Surana, even if you come from a Dalish clan or an alienage. And I will love you, all of you, whether you are Dalish or City – born. Where you come from does not define who you are or what you'll be. Only you have the power to do that."

Ariawyn smiled at that. He was right. It really did not matter where she came from, because she had been so young when she left… She had been truly and entirely formed at the Circle, with Irving, and Wynne, and even Greagoir serving as her guides, her mentors, her family.

"Thank you, Cullen." She leaned to kiss him. "Truly."

* * *

_Vhenan!_

_Vhenan, help me!_

_I can't look away!_

_Lyaera!_

Lyaera jolted awake, gasping for breath and bathed in cold sweat. She looked around as her heart beat frantically against her chest, her eyes scanning the aravel for signs of danger.  _Wait… the aravel. My aravel,_  she realized. She was home… but she did not remember how she got here. The last thing she remembered was Tamlen screaming her name… and her mother… she was sure she had seen her mother somewhere through the haze.  _Had she come back? Was she the one who brought me back to camp? Was Tamlen back? Had she found him too?_

Deciding she would not get any answers laying in her bedroll, Lyaera moved to get up and get dressed. Every muscle protested the notion, her joints stiff and her breath still came in short gasps. Somehow, she still managed to get dressed and stumble outside, only to be caught by Fenarel.

"Lyaera! Creators, are you all right? You're awake! You've got the Creators' own luck, lethallin! You're back in camp, how are you feeling?" He said rapidly, and Lyaera's head whirled with all the questions.

"Ssh." She grasped her head, as there was a hammering in her skull that would not leave. "I'm fine, Fenarel. Just a little dizzy. Where is Tamlen?"

Lyaera saw as the elf's expression quickly shifted from relief to worry again.

"We don't know."

"What?!"

"The shemlen who brought you back… they saw no sign of him. They only found you."

"The shemlen?"

"They brought you back two days ago. Don't you remember them?"

_No… It was my mother who brought me back. I saw her…_  The pounding in her skull grew. "I – I… We encountered shemlen in the forest, but we killed them, I –"

"Whoa… the Keeper is not going to like that… But I doubt those shems had anything to do with these. They were Grey Wardens. They just showed up two days ago, with you unconcious."

"Two days? I've been asleep for two days?!"

"Well, yes… You were delirious and feverish. One of the Wardens, a mage, tried to break the fever, but it spiked up again after she left! The Keeper's been using the old magic to heal you."

"And what of Tamlen?! Why haven't you found him?! Is anyone looking for him?!"

"Yes, of course we are. There are hunters out looking for him at this very moment. We haven't had much luck, since no one knows where that cave is, but we're looking."

_Creators, my head! Oh, Tamlen!_  "I'll go and join the search. I'm the only who knows where that cavern is."

"Wait, Lyaera! The Keeper wanted to speak to you as soon as you awoke! Let me go get her. And if you do go out and look, let me know. I'll go with you." He turned and began walking away.

"Wait Fenarel! I…is… Have you seen my mother?"

"Your mother?" Fenarel's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Yes… I know it sounds strange, but when I was in the cave I  _saw_  her. I think… I think she saved me."

"Lyaera…" Fenarel did not know what to say. What could he say, really? He believed that the person Lyaera had seen was the Warden healer. The elven mage who Ashalle was convinced was  _their_  Ariawyn, Lyaera's twin. "Just… talk to Ashalle… okay? After you speak to the Keeper, talk to Ashalle."

"Fenarel…"

"Please. Just talk to Ashalle." And he walked swiftly away without looking back.

Lyaera sat down on the grass, and after a few moments, she felt a small hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see Keeper Marethari. She tried to stand, but her legs gave out immediately, and she cursed herself.

"Hush, da'len, don't fret." Marethari said, as she sat down beside Lyaera. She brought her hands to Lyaera's cheek and forehead, before wrapping her arms around the young elf in a motherly embrace. "Oh, da'len. I am so glad Duncan found you when he did."

"I kept telling Tamlen we should come back! Ir abelas, Keeper! I'm so, so sorry!" Lyaera could feel her eyes well with tears, but she swiped them away before they could fall. She had to be strong.

"Tel'abelas, da'len. What matters now is that we find Tamlen. Duncan said he found you inside a cave, surrounded by darkspawn. Is that true?"

"I don't know, I don't remember. All I remember was the mirror."

"A mirror? A mirror caused all this? In all the lore we have collected, I have never heard of such a thing." She sighed. "I was hoping for answers when you awoke, but it seems there are only more questions. And Tamlen is still missing. He is more important than any lore or ancient artifact, and if he is as sick as you were… His condition is very grave."

"I wish to join the search for him, Keeper. I feel well enough and I am the only one who knows the way to the cave."

The Keeper regarded her for a moment. "Very well, da'len. I have ordered the clan to pack the camp. We will be moving north, and it is imperative we find Tamlen before we leave. Take Merrill with you to the cave, and anyone else who wishes to join you."

"Fenarel offered to accompany me. Merrill's presence will not be needed."

"Yes it will. She is a skilled mage and she is my First. Take her with you."

"But Keeper, I – "

"But Keeper nothing! You  _will_  take her with you."

Lyaera lowered her head in resignation and nodded. She got up slowly. "Yes, Keeper."

She turned and began walking angrily towards the direction of the campfire, looking for Ashalle, just as Fenarel had said. Lyaera hoped she would be able to shed some light on what she had seen or where her mother was, but before she could reach the campfire, she was enveloped in the arms of the very woman she was looking for.

"Lyaera! Oh da'len, thank the Creators you are whole and well!" The old elf sobbed. "I was so worried, the Keeper did not know if you were going to make it through the night! I was outside your aravel the whole night, praying to Mythal for you to recover! I have never been so relieved as when I heard you were going to pull through! I need you to tell me what happened? Where is Tamlen? I know he's missing, but the Keeper thinks he might already be dead…"

"I'll find him. I promise you, Ashalle." Lyaera schooled her features into the same stern expression she had used while receiving her Vallaslin. Her face betrayed nothing, but Ashalle saw the despair hiding behind the determination in Lyaera's eyes.

"Oh, da'len…" she tucked a strand of loose hair behind the girl's pointed ear, "You don't always have to be so strong, you know. I know how much you care for Tamlen, and how much he cares for you… I always saw it, in the way you looked at each other."

In truth, it had always been her hope the two of them would be bound to one another one day, but as she saw Lyaera's eyes begin to tear up, and her chin begin to quiver, she knew to hold her tongue.

"I – I…. I…" it was all Lyaera could get out before collapsing on the ground, crying bitter tears that tasted of sadness and despair. Ashalle held her as she cried out all the stress and desperation of the last few days, the fear for Tamlen's life and her own, which could be taken away at any moment by a mysterious illness she had never even heard of until she'd been infected.

"We… I… He… That's why we snuck out that morning!" She explained between sobs, as her adoptive Mamae held her in a comforting embrace. "He asked me to talk, and led me to a clearing and… and…" She could not help but choke on the sobs, her chest tightening with despair, so the only thing she could do was lift her hand to let Ashalle see the Promise Ring Tamlen had forged for her.

"Oh, da'len." Ashalle hugged Lyaera tighter, letting herself shed a tear or two for her and Tamlen. "It will be all right, Lyaera."

"We were coming back to tell the clan, when we encountered three shems, and they told us about that cave! And then we found a mirror, and Tamlen, he… he…" Lyaera burst out crying again, as she relived the memory of it all.

"It will be all right. Lyaera. Lyaera, look at me. If anyone can find him, it is you. You'll find him, da'len! And you will bring him back, and the Keeper will heal him. He will be all right."

Lyaera sniffled and nodded. "Yes, you're right." She rubbed her eyes. "Ugh, I'm sorry, Ashalle."

"Tel'abelas, da'len. Just… be careful, okay? I… We have lost so much already, we could not loose you, Lyaera."

"You won't, I promise. I will be careful."

"Good. Go on, now. Go find your mate and bring him back to us." Ashalle gave Lyaera a kiss on her forehead, and moved to stand.

"Wait, Ashalle! I need to speak to you about something."

"What is it, honey?"

"When I was in the cave… I saw my Mamae. I was dizzy and in pain, and when I opened my eyes, there she was, telling me everything would be okay."

"Lyaera –"

"I know you don't like speaking of my parents much, but… I need to know where she is."

Ashalle sighed, trying to come up with a way she could tell Lyaera the truth. "What happened to them is a sad tale, and reopening old wounds does nobody any good."

"But, Ashalle, I  _saw_ her…"

"No, da'len, you did not… Your mother is dead. I believe the person you saw… is your sister, Ariawyn."

There was a thunderous crack in Lyaera's ears, and she was momentarily deaf, only the sound of her heartbeats filling her ears. "Ariawyn?!" she said increduously.

"Yes…"

"But she… she died with Papae, the day after she had come into her magic. Y-you told me that! You told me bandits killed Papae and Ariawyn, a-and Mamae found them and… and… then she left… She could still be alive, she saved me, I know it!"

"Lyaera, maybe this is not the best time…"

"No! No! This is the perfect time! I need to know what happened to my parents! What really happened?! Tell me, Ashalle! Stop lying, and tell me!"

"All right! All right, hush da'len. Ssh, ssh." Ashalle brought her arms around the disconcerted elf once more, doing her best to soothe her. "What I told you about your father is true. The day after he discovered your sister had magic, he took her out early in the morning to the west side of the Forest to begin her training. Apparently, on the way they encountered bandits, and your Father perished by their hands. When your mother got there, she only found your father's corpse, but not your sister's. After we buried your father, Lirelle searched all corners of the forest for days, thinking your sister was only lost. Finally, after about 90 days of searching and searching, Marethari declared your sister to be dead. And after the ceremony… y-your mother, she…" Ashalle drew in a deep breath, summoning her strength, "She asked m-me to take care of you… because she had been broken in a way she had never thought possible, and that half shell of a person could not be the mother you needed. And then, she walked into the moonlight and left. We found her the next morning… well, you don't need to hear about that."

"My mother… killed herself?"

Ashalle sighed. "As we grow, we come to terms that death is a natural part of life. We grow up knowing that our life will end someday, that we will bury our parents and elders, and that if fate is unkind, we might have to bury our chosen life mates as well. And yet, we take comfort in the fact that we will die before our children and that they will bury us. But what happened to your mother… was unnatural. No parent should have to bury their child… And the pain of having to do so was so great, it crushed her… And she could not live with it, not even for you."

Lyaera closed her eyes, trying to take in all this new information. She tried to steady her breathing, hoping it would soothe the insistent pounding in her head. "I… Why didn't you tell me this before? Why didn't you tell me the whole story the first time I asked?"

"You were so young… Those first few days after your mother left, you were wandering around, disoriented and confused, following me everywhere I went. And as you grew, and became stronger and more independent, I thought, 'Why hurt her? She is doing so well… She has her father's face and her mother's strength. They both live on through her'."

Lyaera contemplated Ashalle, staring at her for a long time, before it dawned on her. "You were in love with him, weren't you? With my father…"

"Yes, I was… But he had eyes only for Lirelle. It was instantaneous. As soon as he saw her… It did not matter that she belonged to a different clan or that said clan did not approve of him. He did everything he could to win them over, until they finally gave him their approval."

"Persistent…"

"Yes, like someone else I know."

"So… Mamae never found my sister?" Lyaera asked, trying to steer the conversation back on topic.

"No, she never did. Until two days ago, we all believed her to be dead. But then, when Duncan came to deliver you, he was accompanied by a young elven healer dressed in robes from the shemlen's Circle of Magi, a healer who has your mother's face and hair, and calls herself 'Ariawyn Surana'."

"And you believe this 'Surana' is Ariawyn…  _our_  Ariawyn."

"How common is the name Ariawyn outside of our culture? And do you really think it could be a coincidence that this girl is about your age, and looks exactly like your mother? And that she is a mage, like your father? And that she practices healing magic, which is how your sister's magic manifested itself? Who is to say that your mother never found her corpse because she was never dead? Because someone else found her first? Someone like the shemlen Templars?"

"But, Ashalle, this is insane! It would be too much of a coincidence! Besides, what would Templars even be doing in this forest? Shouldn't they be in their Chantries and their Towers?"

"Creators only know, da'len. Maybe they were lost, maybe they were hunting an apostate, maybe they heard of our clan and were coming to arrest our mages after deciding we had stayed for too long. Only the Creators know for sure. But tell me… do you really think it that improbable?"

Lyaera considered the idea. It was most insane, an extremely bizarre twist of fate and chance, but not completely out of this world.

"No… I guess it is not  _entirely_  improbable, but the chances of it actually happening…"

"But there  _is_  a chance, no?" Ashalle sighed. "In any case, I think you will see for yourself, once you see Ariawyn." She stood and kissed Lyaera on the cheek. "You must go now, da'len. Go find Tamlen and bring him back to us."

"I will." Lyaera stood as well. "Before you go, have you seen Merrill?" Ashalle raised her eyebrow in question. "The Keeper says I  _must_ bring her with me to search for Tamlen."

"She is by the Halla's pen. Be sure to play nice, da'len."

"No promises."

"Lyaera…"

"I don't like her, Ashalle. You know I don't."

"Yes, I know, da'len. What I don't know is if you do not like her for her, or if you don't like her for the title she wears."

"It is a title that was never meant for her to wear, she is not of our clan."

"Our clan needed a First. It is not her fault she was given to us."

"I know, but even after all this time, she still has no connection to us. She never speaks to anyone but the Keeper unless she absolutely has to, she willingly isolates herself, excusing herself with her studies."

"Well, is it a crime to be studious?"

"You know what I mean, Ashalle. She has never tried to integrate herself fully. Every time one of our hunters tried to make conversation, she answered in clipped tones and short sentences. As children, she never tried to join the rest of us as we played. When we eat, she always chooses the farthest spot from the fire and leaves as soon as her plate is clean. She never joins us around Hahren Paivel's fire to listen to his stories or songs. And there is something else about her… I don't trust her."

"Be that as it may, she is still Clan Sabrae's First, and the Keeper ordered you to take her along. Go now, da'len."

"Very well." Lyaera stood and went to find Fenarel and Merrill.

* * *

Lyaera remembered the paths to the cave well. What she did not remember were the darkspawn. She fired arrow after arrow, all landing on the beasts' eyes or throats, while dodging their arrows as they flew past her until finally all the beasts lay dead. Lyaera had managed to maintain her breath steady as adrenaline coursed through her veins, but now it was leaving her, and she settled her hands on her knees to steady herself.

"Lyaera! Are you okay?" Fenarel sheathed his sword and came to place his hands on Lyaera's waist to steady her. She frowned and swatted his hand away.

"I'm fine."

"You're so pale, lethallin…"

"Lyaera, um, if you like I could…" Merrill wiggled her fingers in front of her, signifying she was willing to heal her.

"I said I am  _fine!_ " Lyaera growled the last word. "Let's go, we are almost there."

They continued to walk, reaching the cave in short time. Once inside, they pressed on to the last room, fighting waves of darkspawn. Lyaera fought with gleeful tenacity, pouring all her anxiety into killing the hideous beasts, glad her body was still responding to her commands, even if she tired a lot quicker. As they finally reached the final chamber, they arrived just in time to see an older shem with dark skin shatter the mirror.

"No!" Merrill screamed.

The shem turned around quickly, sword and dagger drawn, as two warriors and a mage materialized beside him as if from thin air. Lyaera and Fenarel drew their weapons as well, and Merrill drew her staff. They glared at each other for a moment, before the mage came to stand in front of the shem, and Lyaera really  _saw_ her.

_Ariawyn._ There was not a doubt in her mind this was her sister.  _Through all the haze, I confused her with Mamae, but no. She wears no vallaslin, it couldn't have been Mamae. Mamae wore my vallaslin. It's Ariawyn, I know it is. In my heart, I know. It's my sister._

"Guys." She said simply, and the shems sheathed their weapons. "Hello. I don't think you remember us. We are Grey Wardens traveling to Ostagar, until we found you here two days ago. How are you feeling?"

"A-ariawyn."

The healer's eyes lit up. "Yes! You remember."

Lyaera swallowed hard, fighting the lump in her throat. She looked at Fenarel and Merrill, and they put their weapons away.

"How have you been feeling?" Ariawyn asked yet again.

"I-I… Fine…" Lyaera said, barely able to articulate all she felt, feeling overwhelmed and stupefied by everything.

"Good. That's very good."

"You destroyed the relic!" Merrill suddenly shouted, startling Lyaera, who had never seen this much emotion from the First, especially given the fact that she knew she was intimidated by shemlen.

"I'm so sorry." Ariawyn said. "I know the eluvian was a relic from your culture, but it was corrupted. The Commander had no choice but to destroy it."

"The… what?" Merrill asked, her shy tone back again.

"The eluvian… you know… It is your word for mirror… Looking glass."

"H-how do you know that?"

"Oh, I read about them in the Tower. They are powerful artefacts from the Ancient Elven Empire, used as a means of transportation. One simply had to walk across and it would take you where you wished to go. I never even dreamed of finding an active one, but like I said, it was corrupted by the darkspawn taint, so it was best to destroy it."

Ariawyn watched uncomfortably as Merrill's jaw dropped and she continued to stare at her.  _Probably wondering how a non – Dalish knows so much…_

"I thought they were Tevinter." Duncan said, trying to lighten the mood.

"No, Elven. The Tevinter Empire claimed many things as their own after defeating Elvhenan."

"Ah. Regardless of origin, it somehow carried the Taint. It is was corrupted you, what caused your illness." Lyaera opened her mouth to speak, but Duncan spoke first. "I assure you, your recovery is temporary. The taint is still within you. Look deep inside yourself and you will see."

Lyaera shut her mouth and nodded. She knew he was right, since her head was still pounding and she could still hear the whispers deep inside her mind. "What about Tamlen?"

"The Keeper mentioned you clan mate. We have found no trace of him."

"Is it possible he could have gone inside the eluvian?" Fenarel asked.

"If it works they way Ariawyn said it works, then yes, he could have." Duncan returned his gaze to Lyaera. "If he did, then he is truly lost to us now."

"I am not leaving here without Tamlen." Lyaera snarled.

Duncan sighed. "I assure you, there is nothing you can do for him. Now, we must head back. I need to speak to your Keeper and – "

"Then, go. All of you, go if you wish. I am not leaving here without Tamlen."

"He's been tainted for three days now, unaided. Through Ariawyn and your Keeper's healing arts, and your own will power, you did not die. But Tamlen has no chance. Trust me when I say he is gone. We must return."

"Go." Lyaera whispered, the deadly threat of one of her arrows lacing the small word.

Duncan sighed and relented. "Very well. We shall see you back a your camp. I will go and speak to your Keeper regarding your cure." With that, he walked out of the room with his recruits as Lyaera stared after them at her sister.  _But I will have to deal with that later. Tamlen is my priority for now._

* * *

After hours and hours of searching under every nook and crevice of the cave, Lyaera was beginning to despair. They had found no sign of Tamlen, even his weapons were gone.

"Lyaera…" Merrill said. She could hear the weariness in the First's voice. "Maybe we should – "

"Don't!" Lyaera silenced her harshly. "Don't even… Just keep looking."

Merrill nodded and they all kept searching. Lyaera didn't know if it was because of the anxiety she was feeling or because of the Taint, but she felt dizzy. She kept walking, until she stumbled on a darkspawn and fell, hitting her chin on the hard stone floor.

"By the Dread Wolf!"

"Lyaera! Are you okay?"

"No! No, I'm not okay!" She stood and unsheathed her dagger in one smooth motion. "And it's all because of these dreadful, rotten, disgusting things." She began stabbing the genlock's corpse, black blood flickering and landing all over her. She kept stabbing it even after the corpse was barely recognizable, she stabbed it until she couldn't see it's deformed face, until she had let out all of her pent up sadness and frustration, until her arm felt like it would fall off and she collapsed on the ground.

"Lyaera…"Fenarel whispered, crouching down next to her.

"Don't touch me. You might catch it too, if you touch their blood."

"I know. I think… It's time to go back to camp."

Lyaera bit her lip, trying to stop the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. She blinked rapidly and stood. "Very well."

As they began making their way out of the cavern, Lyaera could feel herself becoming numb. She had failed to find her bond mate. She had failed Tamlen. When they finally reached the exit of the cave, it was night. The moon and stars illuminated the forest as the cool wind blew. It was here in the darkness where Lyaera allowed herself to look back and shed a single tear.

"Falon'Din enasal enaste. Dareth shiral, vhenan'ara."

* * *

 

**Ostagar, the King's Encampment, 9:30 Dragon**

Loghain stared at the simple piece of parchment as he nursed his goblet of wine. A part of him still could not fathom what he had written, nor the effect his words would have. But the other part knew it was a necessary evil.

He had always wanted the best for Ferelden. Everything he had done had been a testament to that. He had let his father sacrifice himself to save Maric, had accompanied the brash young prince through the Deep Roads and countless battles to restore his birthright, and he had even pushed the love of his life into another man's arms, all for Ferelden.

Loghain sighed, downing his goblet as he thought of Rowan. His hand unconsciously went to his purse and pulled out the small portrait of his Queen.  _Maker, she was so beautiful,_  he thought as he poured himself more wine. She had been all he ever wanted, a strong fierce woman, intelligent and kind. He had loved her from the day he first saw her until the day she died.

He wondered what she would think of him now, what she would think of what he intended to do. He chuckled as he pictured her screaming at him in rage.  _"We did not fight for so long and so hard only to see the Theirin bloodline end here!_   _This is my son we're talking about!"_

_Well, I'm sorry to say your son is too much like Maric!_  He replied to her voice in his head. Maric had never wanted to be king, and Cailan was no  _true_  king. Everyone in the realm knew it was Anora who did all the ruling. Cailan only cared for battles and glory, none of which had presented themselves until now.  _Like father, like son,_  Loghain thought as he remembered how Maric had been willing to throw away all they had fought for for that elven whore, or when he had followed the Wardens on a suicide mission to the Deep Road shortly after Rowan died. And now… now, after everything they had faced, Cailan was willing to hand their nation over to Celene.

Loghain finished his second cup of wine and began rereading the parchment, before stamping down his seal on the hot wax.

_To the newly appointed Teyrn Rendon Howe, Teyrn of Highever…_


	11. 10. Arrival at Ostagar

"But, Keeper, I don't wish to go!"

"You  _must_  go, da'len, or – "

"Don't call me that! I am not a child!"

"Well, you are acting like one! You are not listening to me, Lyaera!"

"I can't leave the clan! You need me! And Tamlen needs me! I will stay and we'll continue the search in the morning."

"Enough!" Marethari yelled.

They had been arguing ever since Lyaera and the Wardens returned over two hours ago. Lyaera had stubbornly refused to listen to Duncan, had even gone so far as to reject his offer to join the Grey Wardens and ask him to leave. Thankfully, he had not taken offense, and had simply bowed and told Marethari they would camp nearby and would not leave for Ostagar until midmorning.

"But, Keeper – "

"If you do not go with the Warden, you will die!"

Lyaera's eyes widened with shock. "W-what?"

Marethari sighed, weary. "I did not want to tell you this, Lyaera. There is no cure for the Taint in your blood, save to undergo an ancient Grey Warden ritual. If you stay… you will die."  _By one of our hands_ , she thought, but she vowed she would never tell Lyaera that. The poor girl would go mad with grief if she knew what would really happen to her… what most certainly happened to Tamlen, if Duncan's words were to be believed.

"But you healed me… you and Ariawyn…"

"No, da'len. We only treated the symptoms and delayed the inevitable."

"B-but then… Tamlen…" Lyaera could not hide her quivering chin and the tears that filled her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, da'len."

Lyaera collapsed on the ground with one hand over her mouth, letting out a choked sob. Marethari kneeled in front of her and pulled the young girl into a tight embrace.

"Tamlen would not want you to die with him, Lyaera. He would want you to be strong… To mourn him, remember him, and move on with your life."

Lyaera only nodded as tears streamed down her cheeks. She knew deep down that the Keeper spoke the truth. Marethari moved to swipe the tears from Lyaera's cheeks with a piece of cloth before placing her hand on Lyaera's shoulder.

"So here is what we shall do. Tomorrow we will plant a tree in Tamlen's honor, we will pack up the camp and then you will go to Duncan and tell him you've reconsidered and you wish to join the Grey. You will go with him and your sister to Ostagar, and together you will become the greatest Wardens who ever lived. You were both born to do great things."

_That's right_ , Lyaera thought.  _I'd forgotten about Ariawyn. My sister… my sister is alive and here and whole. And she'll become a Grey Warden…_

"All right?" the Keeper's voice drew her from her thoughts.

_No… nothing will ever be right again. What cruel, sick joke is this that the Creators return my sister to me only to take my mate in exchange?_ Lyaera only nodded.

"Good." Marethari brought her lips to Lyaera's forehead and stood. "Try to get some sleep, da'len."

Sleep eluded Lyaera for the rest of the night.

The next morning seemed to go by in a blur. After crying silently in her aravel for the entirety of the night, Lyaera finally felt nothing. She was completely numb, in a trance of sorts. She did not eat, she did not speak. She accepted condolences with mere nods and when Tamlen's ceremony began, she merely watched as the hunters dug a hole in the earth and planted a small tree.  _Numb._  It was as if she was Tranquil, as if her soul had died and yet her corpse continued to walk the earth.  _Maybe it has… Creators know a part of me died with him._  The Keeper said a few words about Tamlen and prayed for Falon'Din to guide him through the beyond and nothing. The Hahren began to sing In Uthenera and nothing. She felt nothing.

And after it was over, Lyaera watched as Duncan entered the camp with her sister and the others behind him and nothing. She walked up to him and nodded. He nodded in return. She picked up her pack and turned to look at her clan one last time. They began to sing In Uthenera once more and she  _knew_  this time it was for her, that they were mourning her loss, and yet… Nothing. Nothing until she turned and saw Ariawyn. She gave her a small, sad smile and offered her hand. Lyaera took it and finally…  _Something._

* * *

That night as they camped, Lyaera wondered bitterly at the fickleness of fate. After 15 years here she was, finally sitting next to her sister by the fire. Ariawyn sat beside her eating quietly, occasionally sending a glance in her direction.

"Do you wish to ask me something?" Lyaera asked, a small encouraging smile on her face.

"No… I, um, well… How are you feeling?"

"I feel fine."

"Are you sure? Please don't lie to me… We all want you to get to Ostagar in one piece, and that will not happen if you lie to the healer."

"I am not lying, I promise. I will let you know if I start feeling unwell."

"Ok."

They both turned back to their meals, and Lyaera thought of ways to bring up the subject of them being related…  _Does she know she is my sister? Will she believe me when I tell her?_  She was pondering how to ask all this when Ariawyn interrupted her thoughts.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered. "I'm sorry this happened to you… and I'm sorry about your friend."

That last statement was like a knife to the heart and Lyaera closed her eyes. "I'm sorry too." She played with the ring on her finger. "He wasn't just my friend…" She found herself saying. "He was my bond mate."

"Oh…" Ariawyn was stunned. She could not even imagine what this poor girl was feeling. Her eyes unconsciously looked to Cullen, who was on the other side of camp talking to Ian with his hand absently scratching Rhaella's ears. As if sensing her eyes on him, he looked up and smiled at her. Maker, how she loved that beautiful warm smile… And she could not imagine her life without it, without  _him_. "I… I'm so sorry. I can't even… hm" she faltered. "I know nothing I say will make you feel better… but if you ever need to talk…"

"Thank you… I will…"

"Good…" Ariawyn gave her a small smile. "Now if you'll excuse me, I will go gather some more firewood."

"I can help you with that."

"No need. Cullen will help me."

Lyaera frowned at that. She didn't like the thought of her sister alone with a shem. She had seen the way he looked at Ariawyn too, and didn't like it one bit. He wanted her sister. "The Templar? He's busy. I'll help."

"No, please! Cullen won't mind. Cullen?"

"Yes, Ari?"

"Firewood?"

"Of course."

Ariawyn stood and brought her hands to Lyaera's shoulders. "Eat. Rest. Healer's orders." And with that, she turned and walked away with the Templar on her tail.

"Have fun!" Ian called after them with a laugh, and Lyaera could not help but glare at the shem.

She watched quietly as the moon made its way through the night sky, becoming more and more anxious with each passing minute.

"Shouldn't they have been back by now?" she asked Duncan irritably.

Ian snorted, and Duncan sent a bemused look his way, before clearing his throat. "Well, they are very thorough about the wood they pick, and it is dark, which makes it harder to see. I'm sure they will be back soon enough. Now if you'll excuse me, I must go and set the snares for tonight."

Lyaera watched him leave, heading the opposite direction her sister and the shem had taken.

"Why are you so worried? Cullen is a decent guy and Ariawyn isn't defenseless, you know. I've seen her fight and – "

"Did I ask for your opinion,  _shem_? Or perhaps I gave you the erroneous impression that I was speaking to you?"

"Whoa, calm down, will you? I was only trying to – "

"Well, don't!" she snapped. "Don't  _try_  anything! I am not interested in speaking to you, I am not interested in getting to know you, I am not interested in anything that has to do with you,  _shemlen_!"

"Hey, what is your problem?!" Ian shouted angrily and Rhaella immediately materialized beside him, growling. He was only trying to be nice, and he was not going to put up with this. "As far as I know, I haven't done anything to offend you!"

"Your mere existence is offending enough."

"You don't even know me."

"I know what you are. I know what you can do, what you probably have done to others of my kind!"

Ian was appalled, his jaw literally dropping as he understood what her problem was. "So that's what this is about? The fact that my ears are round instead of pointy?" He scoffed. "You are such a racist."

"Racist? Oh, how dare you, shem-"

"Oh I dare!  _You_  are the one judging another by his race!  _You_ are the one who's making assumptions about others without knowing them!  _You_  are the one who's insulting me just because I happen to be human!"

"What is happening here? I could hear you yelling from all the way over there!" Duncan came rushing into the clearing.

"You are incredibly short sighted!" Ian continued.

"Short sighted?!"

"Yes! In case you hadn't realized, we are in the middle of a war, a Blight! We will be Grey Wardens soon, and we should fighting the darkspawn, not each other! But you… you are willing to let your stupid prejudices and preconceptions get in the way of seeing the real enemy!"

"Enough! That's quite enough, young man!" Duncan stood in front of Ian and put his hands on his shoulders. "Go for a walk, cool down." He pushed the younger man, who was still looking intently at Lyaera. "Go!"

Ian raised his arms in a surrendering gesture, before walking away. The mabari was still growling at Lyaera before a sharp whistle from its master drew her away. Duncan looked to the young elf and sighed.

"Lyaera…"

"I'm going to look for my sister." She turned away from Duncan and began following her sister's steps into the forest.

She went deeper and deeper into the forest, her elven eyes seeing everything in the dark with absolute clarity. She finally found the Templar's clunky footprints in the mud and followed them until the sight before her made her stop dead in her tracks.

The shem had Ariawyn's back against a tree, holding her arms over her head with one hand while the other one traveled up and down her waist, kissing her passionately. Lyaera thought she saw red, and in one brief moment, she took an arrow from her quiver and fired. She heard a grunt as the arrow pierced the shem's shoulder and she released another one. This arrow, however, was blocked by a shimmering blue barrier, and Ariawyn's cry startled her out of her fury.

"What in the Void do you think you are doing?! Maker damn it, Lyaera! Hang on, Cullen." Ariawyn kneeled next to the shem, who at some point had fallen to the ground. "Ian! Duncan! I need some help here! Duncan!"

Both men came running up and Lyaera could only watch as they took in the scene before them.

"What happened here?"

"Ian, thank the Maker! I need your help! You have to hold him down while I remove the arrow. Once I remove it, I can heal him! Quickly!"

"Okay." Ian knelt above Cullen's head, placing both hands on his shoulders, pressing down with all his strength, and Cullen grunted in pain.

"One, two, three!" Ariawyn pulled on the shaft until she finally removed it, and blood gushed out of the wound. She immediately summoned her magic and Cullen's skin began mending itself until finally the wound was closed.

"Cullen, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, love." He brought his bloody hand to her cheek, but Ariawyn did not seem to mind, placing her own hand over his.

_Love? Did he say love?_  Lyaera thought as her stomach rolled around inside her.  _I think I'm going to throw up._

"Are you in pain?"

"Not anymore. You're a very efficient healer, you know." He chuckled.

"I know. Can you stand?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Good." Ariawyn looked away from Cullen and to Lyaera, as her smile vanished from her face. "Just what in the Void did you think you were doing?! Are you mad?! Why would you shoot him?!"

_Ariawyn is defending the shem!_  Lyaera couldn't believe this! "I – I – I'm sorry, I thought – "

"Thought what?!"

"I thought he was hurting you!"

"Hurting me?! Hurting me?!"

"Ari, calm down…"

"Calm down?! She could've killed you! If she has shot a couple of inches lower…"

"He had your wrists and – "

"And what?!"

The shock still had not worn off, and Lyaera found she didn't know what to say.  _My sister… with a shem…_  She felt incredulous and disgusted all the same. "I'm sorry." And she turned and began running swiftly back to camp. She failed to notice Duncan was following her until he called her name.

"Lyaera! Lyaera, stop!"

"Leave me alone!"

"Lyaera Mahariel!"

It was his tone that made her stop. He had  _that_  tone, the same the Keeper used when you turned your back on her. Stern, commanding… and in Duncan's case, fatherly.

"What?!"

"You do not turn your back to your commanding officer. Now, would you care to tell me what it was you were thinking?"

"I'm sorry, okay? I did not know they were… together." She shuddered at the thought.

Duncan sighed. "Sit." His tone softened at that last order, and she complied. "Now, I know this is hard for you, and I appreciate that, but you cannot keep picking fights with the others."

Lyaera only looked at him defiantly.

"I know you did not want to leave your clan. I know you are not here willingly. And I am sorry for that. I am, truly. But you are here now, you will be a Warden and you have to accept that. And what Ian said is right. You will have to learn to get over your prejudices and work with people of all races."

"Shemlen killed my parents. Did you know that?"

"I did."

"Ariawyn is my sister. My  _twin_  sister. Did you know  _that?_ "

"Marethari told me."

"Human bandits killed my Father, and because of them my sister somehow wound up in a Circle and my mother killed herself! And now you tell me I should not hate them? That I should learn to work with them? That I should not gut every single one of them so that they never hurt another family the way they hurt mine?!"

"Not all humans are like them. Ian is not like them. Neither is Cullen. Nor am I or the rest of the human Wardens at Ostagar."

Lyaera scoffed and he turned to her more serious than before.

"Listen to me, Lyaera. Right at this very moment, a horde of darkspawn is following an Archdemon through the Deep Roads, slaughtering everything and everyone in their path. It is our job, our duty, to stop them. To prevent them from spreading their taint to other nations and other people. To save thousands of innocent lives, whether they be elven, human or dwarven. They  _all_  deserve to be saved. They need our protection. You are not just Dalish anymore. It is not your responsibility to protect just your clan anymore. You are a Warden now and it is your responsibility to protect  _everyone_  from the Blight."

Lyaera had no response to that. She knew, deep down, that he was right. He was right. But she still wanted to dig her heels in the ground and protest. "How did you become a Warden? Was it always your dream to join the Order?"

The old man laughed. "No, not at all. I was a thief, a cocky pickpocket living in the streets of Val Royeaux, and one day I decided to cut the wrong man's purse. He caught me and we fought. I killed him, but before I could escape, I was arrested by the city guard. I was sentenced to death, but the day before my hanging a woman came to see me. She was a Grey Warden, and so was the man I killed. He was her fiancée. And she decided to conscript me into the Order." He smiled sadly as he remembered Genevieve.

"She saved your life. Why?"

"You will understand after the Joining."

"Is this why you saved mine?"

"I have not saved it yet."

"But is it why you recruited me?"

"Part of it, yes." They fell into a companionable silence, before Duncan stood. "You should speak to your sister. She has a right to know."

* * *

It was days later when Lyaera finally got the courage to speak to her sister again. Or just speak in general. After meditating on Duncan's words over and over again, she came to the painful conclusion that he was right. She would be a Grey Warden now, and she had to learn to work with people from all races. She would start with the shem, Ian, and apologize to him before speaking to her sister and the Templar. She looked over to the couple, sleeping quietly by the fire, before making her way to the shem, who was polishing his shield. She watched as Duncan raised an eyebrow, before nodding slightly.

"May I join you?"

Ian looked up from his shield, eyes narrowed and full of suspicion. "I fail to see why you would want to, given your distaste for humans."

"I only wish to speak to you, and apologize… Ian."

"Very well." He gestured for her to sit.

"I… Like I said, I want to apologize for my behavior these last few days, and for what I said to you the other night. As of late, I have not been myself. This has all been very hard for me and I lashed out at you."

"I know."

"I… what?"

"I know what you are going through. I know  _exactly_  what you are going through. I…" Ian took a deep breath, bracing himself to say it out loud for the first time. "I recently lost my entire family to a greedy man who we thought was our friend."

"Creators…" Lyaera felt horrible. At least her clan was still alive, and safe. "I'm sorry."

"So am I. For both of us."

They stared at each other for the longest time, finally seeing each other for what they were: two people who had lost everything they has ever known, and thrust unwillingly into a life of fighting and sacrifice.  _It is strange,_   _to find common ground with a shem,_  Lyaera thought.

"I accept your apology by the way."

Lyaera simply nodded.

"And I know this probably took a lot of courage from your part. I want you to know I appreciate that."

"Thank you. But more than courage, it was just… common sense. Reasonably speaking, you were right. We should be fighting darkspawn, not each other, and the day we meet on the battlefield, we should be on the same side, no?"

"Exactly."

"So…"

"Truce?" Ian offered his hand.

Lyaera looked at it for a few seconds. There was still a part of her that felt this was… wrong. She swallowed and took a deep breath before placing her hand next to Ian's. "Truce."

He shook her hand hard once then let go.

"If I may… why do you hate us so much? Humans? Is it because of the whole 'the great elvhen empire fell with the arrival of humans, and they enslaved us and stole our culture" or is it something else?"

Lyaera narrowed her eyes.  _Very thin ice, shem._

"Because honestly, the whole thing happened a long time ago…" Ian continued, unflinching under her hardy stare.

"Do not make me regret our truce, Ian"

"I'm just curious."

Lyaera's eyes unconsciously drifted over to Ariawyn's sleeping form.

"You seem to care a great deal for Ariawyn. Is it because she healed you? Or because she's an elf?"

"Do you always ask so many questions?"

"No, but like I said, I'm curious."

"Well, then stop. You shems have a saying… what was it? Ah yes, 'curiosity killed the cat.'"

"Well, I'm not dead yet."

"That could easily be fixed."

"I guess it can." He laughed. "Listen, I don't know what your deal is with Aria and Cullen…"

"Aria?" Lyaera raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, it's short for Ariawyn."

Lyaera huffed. "I know what it's short for. I just didn't know you were on such familiar terms with her."

"Well, yeah… She's great. One of the sweetest people I have ever met. I owe her a lot."

"I thought you only just met her, when Duncan recruited her."

"I do, but…"  _We've been through a lot. Maker, how strange is that?_ "Anyhow, I think you should talk to her. It's obvious you want to… so you should just go."

"And what could I say?"

"How about 'I'm sorry', for starters?"

"She won't forgive me."

"Yes, she will! She doesn't have it in her to hold a grudge."

"I did not say I wasn't going to do it, I just said I don't think she'll forgive me."

"And I say you're wrong. Go now." He stood. "Oh, and if you could wake her up and tell her it's time for her watch? I'd really appreciate it." He smiled impishly, as he picked up his shield.

"Fine."

"Good night, Lyaera"

"Good night, Ian."

She watched as he made his way to his bedroll and laid the shield carefully next to his sword, before settling down on his bedroll. With one quick look around camp, she noticed the Commander had also gone to sleep.

_Oh, well… No time like the present._  She stood and went to Ariawyn's side.

"Ariawyn." She whispered. "Aria, wake up."

The mage opened her eyes groggily. "What is it?" she slurred. "Is it our turn to take watch?"

"Yes, bu-"

Ariawyn sat up swiftly. "I'll wake Cullen. Thank you."

"Wait! Please. I wish to speak to you. Please. And then you can wake your Templar."

Ariawyn considered her request, eyes stern and lips pursed. "Very well."

She stood and stretched before sitting by the fire. Lyaera simply stared after her, before finally joining her.

"Tea?" asked the healer, already reaching for the kettle and a couple of tin mugs.

"No, thank you. If I drink another cup, I'm afraid I won't be able to sleep."

"As you wish." Ariawyn said, placing one of the mugs back on the ground. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

"Does your head hurt?"

"Yes. A bit."

"Then you are not fine. Nausea?"

"Yes."

"Cold?"

"Yes."

Ariawyn brought the back of her hand to Lyaera's forehead. "You are a tad warm." She noted, mostly to herself. "And pale. You need rest."

"I will rest, I just – "

"You should be sleeping. I will tell Duncan you should not be allowed to take such late watches. In fact, I would recommend you take no watch at all and just rest. I'm afraid I can't do much for the nausea – I don't have any herbs on me at the moment – but I could ease the headache and try to prevent the fever from returning with my magic. If you could lay down, I'll-"

"Could you just listen to me for a moment?!" Lyaera yelled, pushing her sister's hand away from her forehead.

The movement was so sudden, and yet Ariawyn managed to catch a glimpse of  _something_ on her Lyaera's inner forearm. She grabbed her wrist with a tight grip and turned it over so that the palm of her hand was facing upwards and lighted nicely by the campfire. She couldn't hold back her gasp.

Lyaera's eyes widened with fear as she saw what Ariawyn was staring at. Her veins were black, and the pale skin of her forearm was pale no longer, stained with blotches of a deep, dark purple.

"Don't panic."

Lyaera wanted to scream.

"From what I've read, it's a side effect of the darkspawn taint. It should go away once you've undergone the Joining. I'll speak to Duncan about it, I'm sorry, my magic can't really do anything for it, but it will go away. I promise."

Lyaera couldn't take her eyes off of her tainted skin, thinking of Tamlen's body as it slowly rotted with corruption.

"Lyaera, look at me. Look at me." She looked into her sister's almond shaped eyes. "It will go away. I promise. Do you believe me?"

There was nothing but pure determination and conviction in those eyes. Lyaera only nodded.

"Good. Now please go get some rest."

Lyaera pushed the blotches from her mind. She needed to speak to her sister.

"Wait, Ariawyn. I need… I want to apologize to you."

"For almost killing Cullen? I think you should apologize to  _him._ "

"I will, but I wanted to apologize to you first. I'm sorry. I did not know you were together."

"Even if you didn't know… why would you do that?"

"I… I don't have the best history with humans. I honestly thought he was hurting you, that he was about to… hm. Never mind."

"Cullen would never do that." Ariawyn sighed. "Listen, I don't know what happened to you – I don't believe your hatred for them is mere racism or ignorance – but not all humans are evil."

"I… know."

"Cullen is a good person, a good man. So is Duncan. So is Ian."

"Yes…"  _Okay_ , she thought,  _Here it goes…_ "Do you wish to know what happened to me?"

"Only if you wish to tell me."

"I do…" Lyaera braced herself, taking a deep breath. "My name is Lyaera Mahariel. Once, I was the daughter of Taeran Mahariel, keeper of the Sabrae Clan, and Lirelle Mahariel, the clan's greatest hunter. I also had a twin sister, Ariawyn Mahariel." She paused, taking in Ariawyn's reaction. Her sister's eyes widened, yet her face remained serene, almost aloof.

"Go on."

"It was said that I was the splitting image of my father. It is said I have his auburn hair, his blue eyes, his pale skin. Yet my twin was the splitting image of my mother. She had brown, curly hair and small brown eyes, and dimples on both her cheeks, though one more prominent than the other. I loved her. I loved them all dearly."

Ariawyn felt a chill travel down her spine, suddenly nervous.

"When we were about three years old, my sister discovered she had the gift of magic." Ariawyn thought she heard the earth crack as Lyaera continued. "I was with her. She had found a bird, a tiny baby bird who had fallen from its nest. Its wing was broken and it would have probably died, and yet when she picked it up, blue light emanated from her hands and wrapped around the bird. It was only for a moment, and after the bird flew away, its wing completely healed."

"What happened to her?"

"That night, we had a feast, and my father presented her before the clan as his future Second, once she reached maturity. We were all so happy. Until the next morning, when Papae decided to begin training her. 'It's never too early to learn.' He said. I wanted to go with them, but he didn't let me. He said her magic was still not under her control, that it could cause accidents, so I stayed in the camp with Mamae. They were only supposed to be gone until midmorning, but when they weren't, my mother decided to go out and look for them. I don't remember much of what happened after, but I do remember my mother came back with other hunters who were carrying my father's body, and my sister was no where in sight."

Ariawyn's eyes were completely wide now, her face grave and grim. She felt an unexpected tinge of sadness, of sorrow, as she pictured a small Lyaera waiting for her father to come back. Another image popped into her mind, one of trees and a clearing and an unequivocal sense of danger.  _Ariawyn run!_  She heard, and as her ears perked and she turned her head to see who had spoken, she was back in camp, sitting across from Lyaera with a now cold mug of tea in her hand. She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose.

_Incredibly vivid imagination, that's all_ , she tried to reassure herself.  _That's all._

She cleared her throat, which suddenly felt very dry. "What happened next?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

"My father was dead, murdered by shemlen bandits." Lyaera clenched and unclenched her fists. "My sister was missing. And my mother… my mother became obsessed with finding her. She looked for her nonstop, everywhere, but she couldn't find her, and one day she left." She laughed, a bitter, almost angry sound. "When I was younger, I used to think she had left to keep looking for my sister, that one day they would both come back and we'd be together again. As I got older, I realized that that probably would not happen, that my mother had probably died in her travels or something like that. All I knew was that she wasn't here with me. It wasn't until a few days ago that I found out the truth of what really happened to her. She committed suicide once she realized my sister was gone for good."

"I'm sorry."

Lyaera only nodded and they fell into an uneasy silence. It was Ariawyn who finally broke it.

"You think I'm her, don't you? Your sister?"

Lyaera raised her eyebrows and smiled. "Now why would you think that?"

"A woman at your camp told me. She was crying and she hugged me and she started talking about how I came back and how I looked just like my mother."

"Ashalle. She was Mamae's best friend."

"I did not ask her name. I told her she was mistaken and left with the boys."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I do. I grew up in the Circle of Magi of Ferelden. In Kinloch Hold. It's all I've ever known. I have no memory of anything else."

"But you must have come from somewhere. You were not born in the Circle, were you?"

"No, of course not, but – "

"No… shemlen mages are taken there when their gift manifests itself. Tell me, at what age did you discover your magic?"

"When I was three years old, but that doesn't mean anything. It's only be a coincidence."

"Or it could be that you are Ariawyn Mahariel of the Sabrae clan."

"No. My name is Ariawyn  _Surana_."

"Your father's name was Surana?"

"Well no, but – "

"Then how could it be Surana?"

"It's the name my mentor gave me when I arrived at the Tower! I don't know my real name. I don't know my real family! I have no memories of anything but the Tower!"

Something in Lyaera's mind finally clicked.  _Ariawyn doesn't remember us. She was with Papae when he died, and yet she doesn't remember it. Why?_

She remembered the time she had fallen from a tree when she was eight. After waking up in the Keeper's aravel, she had no memory of the fall, she didn't even have the memory of climbing the bloody tree!  _What was it the Keeper had said? "You have a powerful mind, da'len. The fall must have been traumatic enough for your mind to have suppressed it."_

_Ariawyn had blocked the memory of Papae's death._

"Then you can't know for sure, can you?" Lyaera whispered. "If you don't remember… You can't be completely sure you are not my sister."

Ariawyn remained silent for a moment, before sighing. "I guess I can't."

"Ariawyn… I know you are my sister. I  _know_  it. I feel it from the bottom of my heart. I just know it's you." Lyaera dared to take Aria's hand. "But I understand how shocking this is, how difficult it can be for you to believe. So, even if you don't consider me a sister yet, I would like for you to consider me a friend."

Ariawyn blinked. "Thank you… I will… I do."

"And I am sorry about your Templar."

"I forgive you. But you still need to apologize to him."

"I will. Go wake him up and I'll do it right now."

Ariawyn smiled. "As you wish."

Lyaera watched as her sister walked towards her Templar, a small wistful smile on her face.  _It will be okay. It's all going to be okay._

* * *

As the Tower of Ishal finally came into view that crisp morning, Duncan could not help the relief that washed over him. He looked to Lyaera and knew the young elf felt the same. She had shown him the tainted spots on her arm, and while he knew those would go away once she had undergone the Joining, he was afraid she would not make it to perform the ritual. With each passing day her strength diminished, and Ariawyn was having a harder time trying to keep the fever at bay.

He turned his head from the red haired elf to the rest of his recruits, taking in each of their expressions. He could tell Cullen and Ariawyn felt nothing but dread. It was evident in the way the pair clutched tightly to each other's hands, not wanting to let go just yet.

And Ian… Ian seemed to feel a mixture of both relief and dread. Duncan knew he was anxious to meet his brother, but was dreading having to tell him of the events at Highever.  _Poor lad._

"Ho, Duncan!" the King's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Your Majesty! I wasn't expecting – "

"A royal welcome?" Cailan moved to hug him. "I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun."

"Not if I could help it, Your Majesty."

"Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all. Glorious!"

"You mean  _we'll_  have the mighty Duncan at our side in battle." Kassina added as she moved to hug Duncan as well.

"Kassina?" Ian blurted out suddenly, drawing the attention to himself.

"Ian? Cailan, it's Ian!"

"Ian!" Cailan walked past Duncan and enveloped Ian in a huge hug, a hug he did not know could be done with both parties in heavy armor. "What are you doing here? Your brother told us you weren't coming!"

"I wasn't originally, but Duncan recruited me into the Wardens."

"Really? Well, good for you."

"Will your Father be here soon? He was supposed to arrive a day or two after Fergus, but he hasn't yet." Kassina asked as she greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

"My father won't be coming… He's dead."

"What?!" screamed the siblings.

"Teyrn Cousland and his wife are dead, Your Majesty. Arl Howe has shown himself a traitor and overtaken Highever Castle. Had we not escaped, he would have killed us and told you any story he wished." Duncan answered.

"That treacherous rat!" Kassina took Ian's hands and squeezed. "Ian, I'm so so sorry. If there's anything we can do…"

"There is. As soon as we are done here, I will turn my army north and I will bring Howe to justice. That I promise you, Ian." Cailan vowed fervently.

"Thank you, Cailan. And you, Kass." He said, and blushed as he realized he was still holding her hands.  _Wait, when was the last time I blushed?_  He honestly could not remember. He shook his head and let go. "Though, for now, I really just want to see Fergus. He should know…"

"I – I'm sorry, I… just sent your brother to scout the Wilds."

Ian couldn't help but sigh in defeat.  _Of course you did._  "Well, then… I guess I'll see him when he gets back." He looked to Kassina, who shot a sympathetic smile his way before turning to Duncan.

"Duncan, introduce us to your other recruits."

"Ah, of course, Your Highness. Allow me to introduce you to – "

"No need to be so formal, Duncan. We will be shedding blood together, after all." Cailan teased.

"Hopefully, it will only be darkspawn blood." Kassina added.

"Hopefully." Duncan smiled, before gesturing to Ariawyn. "This is Enchanter Ariawyn Surana of Kinloch Hold, escorted by Ser Cullen Rutherford."

Both Ariawyn and Cullen bowed before the King and Princess.

"Well met, Enchanter."

"The honor is mine, Your Majesty."

"Ser Cullen." Cailan shook his hand. "Are you also a Warden recruit?"

"No, Your Majesty. I'm only here escorting Enchanter Surana."

"Ah, of course."

"And this is Lyaera Mahariel of the Sabrae Clan."

"Nice to meet you, Lyaera." Kassina stretched out her hand.

"Don't you dare touch me, shemlen lordling!"

"Lyaera!"

"I'm sorry, Your Highness. I'm afraid she still hasn't become comfortable around humans."

"Oh no, that's quite all right, Duncan." Kassina smiled.

"She's quite a fireball, isn't she?" Cailan asked, unfazed by her response. "You are Dalish, are you not? It is said your people possess great skill and honor."

"Too bad the same could not be said about yours."

"Enough! I apologize, Your Majesty. Lyaera is ill and very tired from our travels."

"Duncan really, it's fine!" the Princess only looked amused. "Go. Rest and get settled. Cailan and I have to go anyway, we're probably already late for Loghain's strategy meeting."

"Ah, yes. He must be waiting to bore us with his strategies."

"Your Majesty, on my way to the Circle, I stopped by Redcliffe. Your uncle says his forces could be here in less than a week if need be."

"Why, that's great, Duncan. We should take him up on that, Cailan."

"Ha! Eamon just wants in on the glory! We've won three battles against these monsters and tomorrow shall be no different."

"Wow, I didn't realize things were going so well." Ian said.

"Yes, they have. Three battles with few casualties on our side and three times the darkspawn have been pushed back. But Cailan, do try not to get so cocky please." Kassina teased.

"Of course, sister dearest. You know, if it wasn't for what you told me, Duncan, I wouldn't believe this is a true blight. There's plenty of darkspawn on the field, but alas, we've seen no sign of the archdemon."

"Disappointed, Your Majesty?"

"I'd hoped for a war like in the tails! A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god."

Lyaera couldn't help her snort of amusement.

"But I guess this will have to do."

"I think you heard one too many of Mother Ailis' stories as a child, Cailan. Now, really, we have to go!"

"Very well." Cailan groaned as he thought of what awaited him. "Farewell, Grey Wardens."

Duncan crossed his arms over his chest and bowed, looking back to make sure his recruits followed suit. After the royals left, he addressed them.

"What the King said is true, they've won several battles against the darkspawn here."

"And yet, why do I sense you're still worried, Commander?"

Duncan sighed before answering Ariawyn's question. "There are only a few Grey Wardens within Ferelden at the moment, but all of us are here. The King's Army is strong and well trained, but despite the victories, the darkspawn horde grows larger everyday. By now they look to outnumber us. I know there is an archdemon behind this, but I can't ask the King to act solely on my feeling."

"Then perhaps we should get started." Lyaera said, anxious to get on with this thing. She was sick of feeling sick, of feeling tainted…  _Corrupted._

"Absolutely. There a few preparations to see to, and we'll proceed with the ritual tonight."

"Let's go, then."

As Duncan led the group across the bridge, Ariawyn started to slowly get left behind. Cullen too, of course. And when Duncan turned his head, Ariawyn only said, "Go. I'll catch up."  _Please._ Duncan nodded, a soft, understanding look in his eyes.

As soon as the group kept walking, Cullen took Ariawyn's hand and practically dragged her behind a statue on the bridge. Hidden from any prying eyes, he brought his lips to her in a wild and desperate kiss. She responded immediately, pressing her body against his, and he once again cursed his armor. Finally they parted, out of breath, but he still held her tightly and pressed his lips against her forehead.

"I… thought we deserved a proper good bye." He whispered, and heard her sharp intake of breath.

"Is that what this is?"

"I don't know. We've never really discussed what would happen once we got here. I hadn't considered… I guess I was avoiding it."

"So was I, but we're here now and time's running out to discuss it."

"I know. I don't know exactly  _how_  this can work out, but I know if anyone can make it work, it's us… I just… I don't want to move on, not from you." He brought his hand to Ariawyn's cheek and looked into those deep brown eyes. "B-but I – I don't know what you want to… That is, if you, um…"  _Damn! Damn me to the Void and back._ He looked away, embarrassed until he felt her gentle touch guiding his gaze back to hers.

"Cullen… do you need to ask?"

_Maker those eyes!_  They shone when she looked at him, he realized, and only him. "I suppose not." He kissed her again, slowly this time.

_It's going to be okay. It's all going to be okay._


End file.
